Escape

Next weekend makes two in a row in SoCal. This isn't going to work - the situation has to change. I escape into the past, a photo John sent me from my last trip to Yosemite. Check out the colors, John le Douche is getting to be quite the little photographer with his published photos and all. He's got more on his blog, check it out.

I'm at a coffee shop with some brawny chick next to me who speaks inane. She's been in 11 car accidents apparently, but says she's a better driver now. How is this possible? How can one person get in that many accidents, let alone survive them? I get in one and I'm fucked in the hospital - she gets in 11 and still gets to dumb down an entire coffee shop. And who lets this chick drive? Don't we have paternal laws in this country, like wear your seatbelt and don't drive if your fat and incompetent? Not that the fat part is really important, but it is.

I made this in the airplane, god damn I was bored. It's my name in occupied lavatory sign. I had a dry spell for a while until they served drinks, but I think red is much better than the open green. My airline was so cheap, the charged me to check a bag - $10. I was ready for this bitch maneuver on the way back and hassled my way out, but it caught me off guard at first. A bunch of assholes, except for the gay flight attendant who shamelessly hit on me, he was nice in an I want to get in your pants kind of way. Of course he had no chance, our signs are totally incompatible. Totally.