valley of the

some fucking putz had a ukelele on the shuttle this morning. he didn't just have the ukelele; he was strumming it and singing along. at 8.25 am. and this fucking mustachio'd indian girl--the same girl who has several times cut in front of me in the shuttle line--was egging him on, making requests. i swear to god. i was looking around, wondering why no one else on the shuttle seemed to mind this impromptu concert. surely i wasn't the only person not feeling like attending a luau.

maybe if i'd slept better i wouldn't be so crabby. then again, i'm pretty sure that even if i'd woken up fresh-faced to the world the story would be the same.

i had to return michael's house keys to him last night in an emergency drive-by because he'd locked himself out of his house. on the way home, intending to stop and buy ice cream, i stopped and bought two 40's. when hilary asked me what kind of ice cream i bought, i told her, "two new kinds of ice cream: one called sierra nevada and one called yuengling. they're good but they make me feel funny."

when i was at the slant buying my 40's, there was another guy my age right in front of me in line buying a fifth of captain morgan. he wasn't dressed for a party, since he was wearing workout shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops, the exact same thing i had on. it was too early to be stocking up for the weekend. clearly, this man, like me, was drinking alone. i had the urge, walking out of the slant behind him, to ask if he wanted to hang out. a complete stranger. not because he was hot; i don't even think he was gay. but because if we're both drinking alone on a monday night we might have something in common.