Date Archives December 2009

Why would anyone move from a pony country to a non-pony country?

The other day, someone posted to the seattle community, asking if anyone had the space to store someone’s 8 or so* mini-ponies for the winter. I struck upon an amazing idea, friends. Maybe a once-in-a-lifetime idea.

 

convo

I am going to travel in majestic style this winter. I hope the Fred Meyer has a place for me to chain up 8 or so mini-ponies while I get groceries.

ponies

I also hope the ponies can handle stairs or they’re going to have to hang out on my back patio all winter. I’m not concerned about how they’ll get along with Napoleon–either they’ll establish dominance and kick him in the face until they become friends, or I won’t have to buy dog food for a while.

 

 

*Seriously, how is it that they only have an estimate as to the number of ponies they have? Is that a sign that you have too many ponies? Can you HAVE too many ponies?

Invisibility Cloak For Sale

One thing I harp about over and over and over again until people want to shake me to death (this method isn’t very effective: I may be child-size but I have adult-strength bones and organs) is courtesy. Basic manners. RSVPs. Thank you notes. ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’ in general. Being a good guest. Being a good host. Holding doors and not spitting or scratching yourself in public. Not cutting in line or being an asshole to people in service-industry jobs. Not ignoring someone who is disabled who obviously needs assistance carrying a bag or opening a door. Respecting the property of others. Not shouting things at people out of car windows. Not vomiting down someone’s heating vent or sticking your dick in the mashed potatoes.

I would like to add to this list: Yield to pedestrians.

I almost got creamed twice on my walk home yesterday, both times when I had the crosswalk light, both vehicles turning right. One simply didn’t look; I’m glad I was looking for him. The other made eye contact and then gunned his SUV so he could cross in front of me, nearly running over my foot. The fact that I injured my hand punching his rear quarter-panel is inconsequential if I didn’t actually damage the asshole’s vehicle, and thus doesn’t, in my mind, constitute a breach in my basic courtesy rules of conduct.

The day before, also as I was walking home, on the half-width sidewalk on the bridge over highway 167, over the music on my headphones, I heard someone screaming “BEHIND YOU”. I looked back, and was faced with a split-second decision–a bicyclist was bearing down on me rapidly, and I had two options for getting out of his way: dive into traffic, or fling myself onto the blackberry-bramble-covered chain-link fence over the highway and pray it was as sturdy as it looked.

…As thorns scraped at my face and I clung desperately to the links and the cyclist blasted by, I was overwhelmed by the urge to jump down and kick him into traffic. I mean, I get it. I’m on foot and thus the low man on the totem pole. But I have a right to the streets and sidewalks, too. I shouldn’t have to play Real Life Consequences Frogger twice a day.

Shaking with adrenaline, I continued on my way home. The lady who drove right through a stop sign and almost hit me, half-braked and mouthed ‘sorry’ at me through the window barely got a reaction, by which I mean, I only flipped her the finger instead of launching into a profanity-laden tirade. ‘Sorry’ won’t count when you t-bone someone or flip me over your hood like so much roadkill, lady.

All I’m asking is not to be mown down in the street. Is that too much?