so i'm standing at the bus stop on my way home from work. bus is at the corner. i hear a thud and look up to the bus poles (ours are electric so have poles to connect to the gridwires). i figure they came off the wires, but they hadn't. bus drives away, and as if a curtain is drawn back, what's slowly revealed in the center of the street is a beautiful black horse on its side, flailing around, her/his hind legs tangled up in the stupid fucking carriage harness for stupid fucking people who pay stupid fucking money for beautiful horses to motor them around seattle's boring retail core - "on your left is kenneth cole." a horse and carriage ride in central park, i get. but in traffic? breathing in fumes all day? walking on pavement? no.
diatribe aside, the horse soon settled down into a collapsed mode after realizing it was impossible to (or being too hurt to) get up. i saw 3 people, including the handler, pulling the horse by her/his neck trying to get her/him to stand. the horse hadn't been hit by the bus, but had slipped and banged the bus on the way down. how hard that hit was, i don't know. but hard enough
to make a loud noise and for me to see the bus shake. best possibility is the bus helped break the horse's fall.
i step on to the street and tell them they shouldn't move the horse until they get help - like a vet. the handler, an angry angry dyke (dyke part good, angry part bad), yelled at me that the horse was fine, just tangled up. i yelled how did she know the horse was fine and if you fell hard would you want someone pulling you up by your neck? she told me to back off, but then ironically the 3 stopped pulling the horse's neck as if they'd actually listened to me. i don't know who the other 2 people were.
then the inevitable happened. a peta devotee (black haired pale skinny young women in tight jeans) started severely screaming at them how they were being cruel to the horse, how the horse never would be in this situation if it weren't cruelly being used for profit, breathing in the fumes - basically all the stuff i was thinking, but my focus was on helping the horse in the moment, not making a political point. that person eventually left crying after being told to fuck off by whoever was with the handler - one of the people who had been pulling the horse's neck.
so i go for a walk on christmas eve, or as it's known to jews - december 24th. i'd eaten dinner already, felt cooped up in my apartment and despite the cold, just needed to get out. the plan was to hang out with friends on christmas proper. december 24th was going to be all about digital cable and non-digital food.
so i end up on a popular consumer strip where i knew some places would still be open and i wander into a shop that sold dessert among other things. i'll treat myself, i figured. i was absorbed in the cake display and told the clerk i needed more time, eventually asking him, with as much serious as such as a question could allow "do you have any cakes specifically designed for jews on christmas?" to which he replied "oh, you're jewish? are all jews as incredibly handsome as you?" which blindsided me to the max.
i'm not entirely used to compliments out of the blue like that (though of course we all know i'm incredibly handsome, ahem, my body language is one of the most effective deterrents to human contact known to gay man.) i'm also naturally suspicious, so i say "only those of us who are about to decide how big a tip to leave." which is an asshole thing to say on my part, but it's what came out.
so he says he's not saying it to get a tip and he doesn't say that to everybody. so i say "i'm the only jew in the world and i'm the best looking jew." which gets into bizarre territory as attempted flirts go because it makes no sense and doesn't go with my first response. so i then pick the strawberry white cake white icing with almonds (which is called a "gateau" on the little card). i chose it because it looked suitably garish and decadent, especially in terms of the price. continuing my fumbling, because he is handsome, i point out that gateau means cake, which i told him i figured out from the context. off-putting body language is looking pretty good in comparison to this exchange.
he's still smiling though when he has me walk around to the register side. he asks me my name and i say and then he tells me his, which sounds like, let's just say, a wwii related word. then he goes to the back to get my slice, since he needs to leave the display case one alone for future garishness.
when he comes back i ask him the spelling of his name, because if it was what i thought he'd told me, it would have been a sleight on my person and jewishtacity. he said, oh not that way it's [such and such spelling.] we made a little more small talk, then i belatedly thanked him for the compliment and told him i was flattered and he said he was glad he'd at least learned my name and he hoped i stopped by his store again soon. i felt he was sincere at that moment. i walked home with my slice and it was good, especially the strawberries. i thought of potentially better responses like: "since your shop isn't crowded right now, do you mind if i stand here and flirt with you stupidly for awhile?" though i don't know if that's really better.
waking up today, i felt good about a guy hitting on me, though i still partially felt maybe it had been for a tip or to fuck with me in some way. but part of me definitely felt it could have been genuine and maybe i should stop by his shop again after all. i resolved to talk to my friend about it later [today] and get some advice. so i go over her place for christmas dinner, or december 25th dinner. and by the way earlier today, g-d or mother nature or whoever was so cliché because it was snowing on christmas. whatever.
because his first name was so distinctive, and because i'd learned the spelling since it was a homonym for something horrible so i'd asked, i of course googled him before i left for her apartment. i found a myspace for a music group he's in, saw his face picture and everything. so at my friend's apartment, i tell her the whole story up to this point, google him to get his myspace and before i click that, i scan down for other google results. what i found is after the jump. and it's not pretty.
or i am. because you know that thing where kids sit alone at lunch or don't even go to the lunchroom because they're busy eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the bathroom because they have nobody to sit with at lunch so they sneak to the bathroom on the way to lunch and it's 1982 junior high? you know that?
it's amazing but seattle is a big lunchroom and i'm in the toilet reading wired magazine and eating masumun curry on my design public duvet cover thankfully without getting any of it on said duvet cover.
i'm awkward or at least don't know what i'm doing socially even if it fake it well.
this doesn't matter because it's not about britney except i tagged this post britney because jamie lynn is a nobody. unless britney is the father or kevin federline is the mother or however that works. she's 16, y'all. and unless it's a total hoax, it's real, unlike her hair color(s).
she's all starring in zoey 101 on nickelodeon. these teen pregnancy things are only supposed to happen on degrassi so i don't know what's going to happen to zoey. hopefully it will be replaced by some episodes of three's company, though it's that lax attitude as promoted by jack, janet and chrissy of santa monica, california which cause teen pregnancy. that and penis juice.
i just hope if she leaves it in a dumpster that it's a really nice dumpster. lots of bling. maybe a big friendship bracelet on it.
and for goodness sake, i hope she doesn't get too fat, because if she gains weight during pregnancy and keeps it on after, she'll be a poor role model for rich, teen mothers.
or did britney sabotage her sister's condoms or birth control pills to take the heat off her own life? this would ironically make it about britney though it's technically not about britney.