Vendetta

So, we decided to see a movie the other night.

We haven't enjoyed our evening for a full 5 minutes before some fool walks in blabbing on his cell at a decibel level only the very adept at hearing animals in world, outside, 4 flights down can hear. What was he blabbing about? He was busy informing everyone that his favorite adjective, noun, subject, adverb and proposition is the F-word. He used the word in every possible context. He then followed up notification with an exposition of the stupidity of the movie being advertised on the before the actual show.

You know, I just want to see the story on the massive screen. I didn't come for the company of complete strangers. I didn't come on opening night because I anticipated that inevitably some idiot would ruin the viewing experience by running his mouth the entire film with a mirage of inappropriate comments that no one appreciates, especially, the people accompanying him - at least, that idiot hasn't failed me yet. I don't want to be subject to the painful monotony of your inept vocabulary.

So, this time I turn around and I say, "I appreciate (that you think you sound smart when you repeat the same word over and over and over again) that you use that type of language, but could you not be so loud?"

I can't remember a movie I've been to where I haven't told someone to shut up at some point, for some reason, and usually they just shut up or throw popcorn at me or whatever, but this alien... his eyes grew into his forehead. Immediately his face flushed an incredible fuchsia, and his knuckles turned white as he clutched his arm rests. This dude was seriously creepy.

I left for the bathroom, so unfortunately I cant tell you firsthand what happened next, but apparently this guys friend shows up, and our little creep head grows a chubby. No doubt purposefully, he starts recounting the story to his pathetic 4'8" mealy mustached friend, and they tell my husband 3x, "We are going to follow you out of this theatre, and beat the shit out of you." "Remember, we are going to follow you out of this theatre and beat the shit out of you!" "Don't forget we are going to follow you out and beat the shit out of you!" My husband came out to find me and of course we got our money back, and then we called the cops.

They hauled him out the theatre and handcuffed him.

Later, one of the side show policemen informs me, "Everyone has a right to free speech."

No way, really?

"You're in downtown Portland, people are going to say "bad words"." Highlighting bad words with finger quotes as he spoke."

Is that what this is about, bad words?

"This is downtown, 2 or 3 people get stabbed everyday down here."

So, point of the story: It's no big deal if I'm the person stabbed! By the way, my part of town, between the first of the year and the end of February there were only 22 shootings.

Breaking Up

So, while it's never easy to end a relationship - I've never quite heard it put this way before.

While walking to work I overheard a girl on her cell phone screaming, "So, are we together or not?"
Pause.
"Fine, then it's over!"
Pause.
"Okay."

This has prompted my curiosity to hold a contest. Post your breakup stories as comments to this blog by March 31; this gives you two and a half weeks to enter. Everyone will vote for their favorite by way of polling once the contest ends; I will add a poll to my blog, that's how it works.
The most unusual breakup story will win.... wait for it.... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Once I get my first comment/breakup story I will unveil what the prize will be!
Happy sweeps!

EavesDroppings

I started listening in on this story today when I heard overheard a woman say, "You know what evacuation means right?"

She was talking to a young man, who I would guess was black/african american/dark european (no one take offense), and in no way, and at no point illustrated that he didn't speak or understand the english language.

She was white, early elderly age, dark large 80's style glasses with greasy blonde hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail, then jerked back out towards the front until it settled as if she got mad at her hair and wanted to punish it for being naughty.

Her story continued about the 60's storm at the coast. "I could see the eyes of the children,... and,... my own! I could see my own eyes,... and all those eyes were scared!"

She proceeded to talk about how everyone in the city had to move to higher ground. "Do you know what that means? Everyone had to go up into the hills, up h - i - g - h."

At this point I realized the young man didn't know her, and he didn't want to be part of this conversation, and he was looking for a way out.

"You know what they called this? This storm that is going down in the history books? Costal,... Thunderstorm,... Gale,...."

The young man walked away at this point. He just simply said bye, lifted up his right hand halfway and shrugged.

She didn't even notice.

"One thing I learned, never put freezing hands in hot water! Never! Big mistake, big mistake!"

Monkey Business

There is a stairwell at the top of my building that goes no where but to the top of the roof. And no one has access to the top of the roof. No one but the hobo that spilled yellow nail polish all over the hardwood stairs, and is apparently living up there.

I now know where she hid the clothes she stripped off as she was running from and screaming at me when I encountered her in the hall.

Fortunately we had another chance meeting on the train. See, the train is free downtown so it serves a double purpose. Entertainment for me, and a free ride for every one else. She stood outside the train, tore off her jacket, and from outside threw it onto the train. Then, she long jumped after it onto the train. Once she retrieved it, she screamed and threw it away from herself off of the train.

This went on for a few more times before the conductor came out to see the show. At this point she decided it would be fun to start climbing the pole in the center of the train and show every one her dirty stained panties.

I only wish that she had yelled, in a squirrel like voice, "Hoobastank!"

Persons with Disabilities

You are supposed to give up your seat for riders or persons with disabilities when riding public transit. This should be common sense, but just in case it's not, the train recording reminds you every time the doors close.

This requirement should be extended to include drunks.

Out stumbles a crazy swearing bum shaking his beer can high in the air, smelling foul, and verbally castrating the two poor gentlemen left on the train. This is the part I witnessed.

Prior, one of the castrated men entered the train a stop earlier. He came onto the train with a walker and wanted a seat. Lucky for him, one was available. The only impediment was that the drunk was occupying one seat, his beer can the other.

The man asked the drunk to move his things so he could occupy the vacant seat, but the drunk refused, so... the man picked up the drunk's things and shoved them at him.

That didn't go over well. When I got on the train, I surveyed the situation and then I said to walker man, "Well, you really pissed him off didn't you?"