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04.20.2002 - 4:48 p.m.

Today is so lovely and fresh and green I want to roll around on the ground, kicking up my heels and whinnying. The air smells clean and crisp, birds are twittering away like extras from a Disney film, trees are tufted with sweet white blossoms, the mountains are sparkling. Ah, a beautiful spring day in Seattle - you can't beat it.

JB and I moseyed around downtown this morning. We walked from our apartment to the monorail and rode that to Westlake Center. This time we sat in the very front, next to the monorail driver. I highly recommend you try this out, should you have the chance. Not only do you get more of a floaty sensation because of the windows in front of you, but you can also pepper the driver with a bunch of questions, which is what JB did.

How fast can the monorail go? Apparently it tops out at about 45 MPH. Does the driver sometimes accidentally shut the doors on people? Yes, because as she explained, the sunlight makes it hard to see the front mirrors, so every now and then she can't see someone in the doorway.

"It's no big deal, though. The doors just bounce right back open," she said. After a long pause, "I mean, it's not like they cut people in half, or anything."

Ooookay….didn't actually figure they DID, but good to have the clarification.

So from the Westlake mall we just rambled around a bit. We passed the Angry Shouting Man, who is always, always, rain or shine, day in and day out, stationed across from Nordstrom's shouting the same incoherent thing at people driving by. He holds up a cardboard sign that has a lot of writing on it - the only thing I have ever caught is "Seattle police" and "Communists". I can't figure out what he's yelling, but it has the same rhythm: Blah BLAH! Blah BLAH BLAH BLAH!

You have to admire this guy. I can't even imagine what sort of opinion I might form about anything that I would care to yell about it to other people. I mean, yes, the guy obviously has like 29849513 bats in his belfry, but he is dedicated.

Well, maybe I could get out there and yell about the process of buying a home, since that's been preying on me lately. "Why does everything have to be so HARD?" I would scream, holding up a Form 17 and an inspection report 45 pages long. "Blah BLAH BLAH BLAH!!"

I made JB go with me to the Shop of Innumerable Smells, where I buy my stanky candles. After smelling a hundred different varieties like "Tangerine Lavender" and "Pound Cake", he got all sneezy and starting pawing at his nose like a cat who has had scotch tape stuck to her head (not that I have ever observed that and/or contributed to such a cruel cruel thing). It IS a little overwhelming after a while, especially when you take a big whiff of something awful like "Cilantro Coffee" or whatever.

When we headed back to Westlake, we noticed that there was a huge gathering of people in the park across the street. Everyone had signs, people were chanting stuff, and there were a billion cops standing around. So, we cleverly deduced that they were protestors, but it was really difficult to figure out what the message was. Some people had signs saying "Your taxes are killing innocent civilians!" and then some OTHER people had signs saying "Free health care NOW!".

The really weird thing was that there was this giant inflatable missile in the midst of the crowd, just sort of bobbing around. If it was meant to represent antiwar sentiment, it really didn't work. I mean, it looked so goofy and benign, like a Macy's balloon that had wandered away from its parade.

And where the hell do you get something like that, anyway? When JB and I were driving around the Eastside last weekend looking for furniture stores, we saw a huge inflatable gorilla in front of a piano store, advertising a sale on pianos. Wha? Aside from the opaque link between a giant ape balloon and a piano sale, what company makes these things? Can you order inflatable anything? Sea slug? Pork chop? Giant hand giving the finger?

Then we came back home, and JB left to drive south to Mt. St. Helens, which he and some friends are going to try and summit tomorrow. In honor of the mounds of discomfort he will probably experience in the next day and a half, I plan to spend a very slutty evening making Thai tofu curry, drinking what claims to be a "delicious and stylish young red wine", and burning stinky candles.

Also there may be multiple hot baths.

go back ::: forward

4/17/02 - I'm all wound up like Denis Leary.
04.14.2002 - So a futile morning spent looking for a Sofa That Doesn't Suck, an object seeming more and more elusive, much like the Perfect Pair of Jeans and the Non UniBoob Sports Bra.
04.13.2002 - No quarters? No fucking problemo.

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