Against my troubles.
I'm coming slow but speeding.
Do you wish a dance? And while
I'm in the front, my play on time is won.
But the difficulty is coming here.

Dave Matthews Band, "#41"
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I hope you like the slight addition to the blog. I thought a little imagery would go nicely with the text. And if you manage to peek at my profile for some obscure reason, you'll see me sitting there, looking all smug in my pajamas. Yeah, you'd be smug too if you were wearing green plaid.

Work is draining a lot of my time, and because the interlock installer is having severe severe severe difficulty installing it onto my brand spanking new Lexus, I've been without a car for almost three days. It's okay; the e-bike ride has been refreshing as well as familiar.

There was this moment on the Thousand Oaks bus when it picked up a whole bunch of summer school students. Clearly some boys were making fun of some girls. One guy even called this short girl a midget.

"Oh yeah, well I'd rather be a midget than a..."

Hold on, now. You've already lost this war of words. In fact, it doesn't matter what you counter with, not unless you're ready to bust out something so profoundly obscene that it makes the bus driver stop the bus and ask you to leave for fear of inducing heart attacks among the elderly and disabled. No, she countered with something lame that included the word fucker. Just fucker. That's it. Terrible.

I wish I could tell her that life will get better, that when you grow up, you don't have to deal with the trials and/or tribulations of jerks making you feel bad. But I'm not going to lie to her. I think the best advice all around is to just have a snappy comeback handy.