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2004-02-27 @ 5:04 p.m.
creepy van guy and bus criminals

In the Annals of Bad Days, this will surely rate in the top 20, I think. Oy!

And that was with a horoscope that suggested today: You're happy to lower the curtain on a difficult period. People that were kept apart begin flowing together as the walls break down. Dress yourself to finalize and celebrate.

Did we lower the curtain today? Did things get better and I just didn't notice?

So what was the deal sitting on the bus this morning, and having the girl across from me excitedly telling the first four rows about how she had stabbed a girl four times in the shoulder and was awaiting a court date and expected to get "a year and some change".

Yay! I was so excited to get to sit next to a real live criminal. And what was that odd shape in her coat pocket? That odd gun shape? I wondered. Hmmm. And did I want to mention that Guinness Book of Records was on its way over to record the single most times a person could ever utter the word "FUCK" in a single 5 minute period. And how she even dazzled us with its various uses as a verb, a noun, a preposition, a dangling modifier, an adverb, and every other grammatical anomaly into one long single sentence. It was truly amazing.

I was going to compliment her on her obvious command of the English language and her knack for slicing humans with kitchen knives, but I decided to just admire her from afar. Like across the aisle.

....quivering in fucking fear and wishing I was driving my own car.

I was actually on my way to get a massage with Married Guy and by time I got there, I was well on my way to a full fledged panic attack. I chose to not take a second bus up from the downtown area and just walk the mile up the hill, and try to calm myself down, but it really didn't work very well.

My chest was all squirrely and I couldn't even blame caffeine. I was very hyper and talkative to the girls in the outer office when I got there. I was spouting off about some artist named Christo out in California who used to cover mountains with large pieces of material and other weird things, but I was actually just covering up for anxiety.

Once I get in the massage room with Married Guy I told him I was having an anxiety attack. I had actually taken a quick klonopin right before I got there. Fortunately, he was very understanding and said I had come to the right place and he would help. Before getting there I had stopped at the library and got a music CD to accompany today's massage. It was just guitar, saxophone and percussion and was called "Journey Down the Amazon" and sounded like a good combo. It was perfect actually.

So the massage was nice. We were both well behaved. Nothing inappropriate. I was pretty zonked by the end of the session, between the medication and the magical fingers of M.G. I really needed that.

Unfortunately the journey home, was the trip from hell. Yesterday, right while I was sitting in my living room, my mailman had delivered a note saying I had a package at the post office. And I was right there!! He didn't even attempt to knock or ring my bell to deliver the damn package. And the post office is way on the other side of town, in some grungy industrial part of town. Not near a bus.

So today, after my massage, I took the bus back downtown, got off and headed towards this post office. I did stop at my case management place, which was half way in-between, hoping somebody from my team could give me a ride. But nobody was there.

And the receptionist, who wasn't the usual friendly one, said...smiling vaguely, "Well, its only a hop, skip and a jump, over there."


I just said never mind and headed out towards this out of the way post office. This hop skip and a jump, took me under highway overpasses with homeless people smoking illegal substances. I had to walk out across a huge intersection where a highway off ramp unloads cars at about 50 mph. I had to walk out into an extremely busy street because there was a huge icy build up on the sidewalk and I was afraid of falling or twisting my ankle.

And then when I got to this little less busy street this old man in a van drove by really slowly, and was looking at me. I just ignored him. And then he went and turned around in a parking lot behind me and drove back by again, just looking like he wanted to throw me in the the back of his van and do the nasty or something. And I was walking up against a large wire fence and the street so I had no place to run.

Fortunately, some yuppie couple came driving up behind him and stopped and ask me where "Babies-R-Us" was. I am probably the least likely person you could ever ask that question of. But I was glad they did. I even considered asking them if they could give me a short ride. Fortunately The Creepy Van Guy finally disappeared.

Finally got to the post office. Got my package (it was a late arriving birthday gift from California). I gave the postal supervisor a piece of my mind. Of course that was about as loud and impressive as a Chihuahua in a wind tunnel. "Squeak squeak, squeak! And don't let it happen again!!"

And then I got lost trying to take a short cut back to where I thought I might be able to catch the bus. I was walking on a totally deserted street wondering if Creepy Van Guy was going to suddenly reappear. I was really scared. And plus my feet were killing me by then and most of the repair that Married Guy had done on my in-pain body was being undone by all the walking. Plus I had snowboots rather than sneakers, and I think I raised some new blisters. Damn. And, by then, I was also carrying my box from California.

Finally got up near the hospital and was able to catch the bus. Never, ever thought I would be so happy to see a freakin' bus. But I was. And the ride home was uneventful. No switchblades were pulled. No paroles were violated. No shots were exchanged. I just wanted to get home so I could see my birthday present.

Ya wanna know what it is?

A purse with the Brooklyn Bridge on it.

Um....interesting. Not totally my style. But it is big. And my current purse is totally overflowing, so I guess it was worth having, especially after all the trouble I went through to get freakin' Creepy Van Guy.


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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty