Oh My Goats!





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It’s the TSA’s fault. I should have at least made it to the Dakotas by now.

I thought I’d do some of that here. The gig was fun while it lasted, but going back to being plain old PlatKat really isn’t so bad. Stay tuned for my next non-scandal!

From a friend, upon viewing my wish list:

The whole list started as a jumbled assortment of the oddest combination of stuff I could find on Amazon. It was a joke, busting on internet attention whores who think they deserve gifts from strangers simply for existing. (Or perhaps showing their tits; either way, not interested.) Then people started actually buying me things from it (anal beads, duct tape, fake vomit, etc.) so I figured I ought to add some real things too. The chicken purse isn’t exactly one of them, but it’s the kind of gift I’d probably carry once to be funny and then it would sit in my closet for several years.

Yes indeed, Amazon played me like a rusty trombone… which you’ll notice is not on the list.

Things got off on the wrong foot this morning when I attempted to take a bus to work instead of walk like I usually do. I had done my hair (like I usually don’t), and with humidity at 85%, I wanted to be outside as little as possible.

As I reached Jefferson Street, I saw a bus in the distance coming down the road. Perfect, I thought. One more block and I’ll get there right when he does.

Now, they’re tearing up a lot of Broadway to build streetcar tracks, and my neighborhood is no exception. I already hate the block between Jefferson and James more than anything in Seattle (even hippies!), but now I have a new reason to hate it. Part of the road was closed, the intersection was closed, and there was a cop standing there to oversee things, i.e., write people jaywalking citations because vehicular traffic on that street moves so slow, a driver would have to TRY to get into an accident.

So you can guess what happened next. The copper had a close eye on me as I anxiously tried to take the most direct route from Point A to Point B. The light changed and I tried to walk. He shouted, “You can’t go this way.” I pointed at the bus hoping he’d give me a break, but due to the fact that we were even conversing at all, an innocent woman trying to get to work is suddenly enemy number one. He shouted at me again. The bus pulled away and there wasn’t going to be another for about 15 minutes, which is the time it takes me to walk to work.

It’s not worth it, I’ll walk.

So much for being a First World Anarchist.

The dumbest part of all of this is I could have exited my neighborhood a block earlier, crossed LEGALLY at an unmanned intersection with no stoplight, and made it to the bus stop without issue. I walked the way I did because I wanted to see how far down the street the bus was, or if it had already passed. It was the false hope from seeing the bus that got me down.

My immediate thought was What an asshole. My crossing there would have hurt no one.

My second thought was It must suck to be him. I eventually crossed the street and was on my way. He has to spend his morning outside in traffic on the shittiest block in town.

Moments later, that anger I felt turned into pity and then thankfulness. I was going to an office that has air conditioning and is populated with people who aren’t trying to kill me (I think). My schedule is flexible, so I could even stop and get a bagel if I wanted (I didn’t). He may have won the battle, but I was winning the war—the life war that prevents me from having to wear a uniform and yell at people to make money.

Yes indeed, perception is everything… but my hair looks like shit.