I Will Haunt Your Beauty.

Where do I start? Bus was vicously late yesterday morning, and despite my protest the driver insisted he was on time, and it was the other bus that was "missing". I really couldn't argue. I told him to frack himself and I took my seat. I couldn't blog about the new Los Compesinos! album yesterday which I am digging, but not as much as the other one. But that was yesterday and there are newer things today.

I must be the only person on my bus that does not have an iphone. Everyone on my bus is always texting, or scrolling, or dragging or dropping. The pretentious nit next to me this morning made a point of "reading" on his iphone. I must admit I felt the total rube sitting there with my codex. It was like a scene from The Diamond Age really.

I have a potluck tomorrow which I think we all know is some native american saying for "too cheap to cater" but Compadre has given me a recipe and I think I'm going to give it my best effort. The theme of the potluck is the Northwest or Seattle so everything I imagine is going to have smoked salmon in it.

Don Wakamatsu has been named Mariner's Coach. Which is nothing at all like the Duke of Buccleuch, but it is baseball, and in my own opinion he redefines middle aged sexiness in a single breath. And that breath sounds like sigh.

Got to the office and my telephone is already blinking at me. People on the east coast really need to get a clue. We are actually, not figuratively, three hours behind you. My ass was in bed dreaming of ass sex when the towers fell yo. Get it? Whatever, I have to earn my keep. Lates.