listening to groovy burnin' heart [expired] as i walked past benaroya hall's multitude of external speakers, which mashed the mashup in my ears by adding a classical twinge.
woman on the bus with a giant pink victoria's secret bag, which while slightly ironic due to the likelihood that the items inside could probably have fit in a thimble, or at most 7 thimbles, was fully, painfully ironic due to the receipt stapled onto the bag in full view. if i were slightly more farsighted than i already am, i could have known if she'd gotten the water bra or the diamond bra or the pudding bra.
then the electric powered bus went half off the wires so the busdriver had to step off to reattach the poles to the juice. and of course many people, including ms. victoria's non-secret, frustrated and tired and bored, got off the bus and boarded the one just behind, a different number but going where they wanted still. i was frustrated and tired and bored too for different reasons, but i had the sense to avoid the irony of getting on a bus behind ours when the buses were both on the same wires. the one behind had no ability to pass so it just sat there too and when we finally moved forward, we left it in the electric dust.
other ironies are my being incredibly handsome, smart, sexy, insightful, good with money, creative, talented, alive, jewish, jewish, jewish, queer, healthy, fit, practical, brave, strong, loyal, honest, kind, sassy, addicted to america's next top model, and yet still helplessly, hopelessly single, dateless, scared and alone. no wait, that's not ironic. that's just hilarious. and it's all tyra's fault.