A Bus Story

The improvement in the weather has brought out the more eccentric bus riders. This morning it was a group of Meth addicts, including the woman who was involved in the mysterious car accident I wrote about several months ago.

She had two companions today. Man A was thin with long, scraggly hair and a matching beard. Man B was enormous. Everything about him screamed uncomfortably large. Heavy construction boots, long-sleeved t-shirt, overalls with a black leather belt and three handkerchiefs around his neck, knotted farmer style.

The woman and Man A sit down across from me. Man B sits down one seat over from me. They start talking. I have a book out (Lost in Translation by Nicole Mones) and am trying to read.

Man B complains about warm it is on the air-conditioned bus. He is sweating profusely and pulls another handkerchief (how many can one person carry?) out of a pocket and wipes his face. The voices of the trio become lower and start to convey a sense of urgency.

I try to keep my eyes and mind on the text.

Man A and Woman: "Do you have any?"

Man B: "Not on me."

Woman: "How much? How much?"

Man B: "I don't have any right now. I only come downtown on Mondays and Thursdays."

Man A: "If we pay in cash, can we get some earlier?"

Woman: (pulls an empty prescription bottle out of her purse) "Yeah, can we get it earlier?"

Man B: "Maybe a day. I don't have any money right now for it." (Wipes his face again)

Man A: "Because we can pay in cash."

Man B: (breathes heavily, sighs, re-ties one of the three kerchiefs around his neck) "I'm broke right now anyway. I'll be down $60.00 next Monday and another $100.00 on Thursday. I'm in debt."

Man A: "We can pay in cash. We can pay you back."

Conversation drifts back to how hot it is on the air-conditioned bus.

Far be it for me to jump to conclusions, but if the frantic manner one of my fellow riders displayed in getting off the bus is any indication, this merry little group was not discussing the purchase of black market pineapples.

It is a pity she did not stay on long enough to hear the punchline to the whole conversation. The three were returning from an early Narcotics Anonymous Meeting.

There are so many different levels of reaction to overhearing this conversation. Horror at the idea that I am witnessing an attempted drug deal. Amusement at the idea of a drug dealer working on a set schedule (Mondays and Thursdays only). Pity that they are so caught up in an addiction that they have lost all sense of discretion.

More Evidence of Hockey Withdrawal

1. I was premature in rejoicing over Evgeni Malkin. He has not yet officially signed with the team.

2. Rumor has it that Mount Lebanon native Mark Cuban (yes, that Mark Cuban) and Pittsburgh native Dan Marino have thrown their support, financial and otherwise, behind Andrew Murstein in a bid to buy the team.

Oh please, let it be so. And let the current owners decide to sell the team to a group who wants them to remain in Pittsburgh instead of "I'm from Hartford, I feel your pain, but I will move them to Kansas City anyway" pair by the names of David and Sam Fingold.

3. The contracts of Sebastian Caron and Shane Endicott were bought our last week. To "buy out" a contract means that the organization pays out a portion of the salary a player would have earned over the remaining life of a contract. Those players then become unrestricted free agents and can sign with any organization they choose.

I'm not happy with the Penguins decision to buy out Caron's contract. Joceyln Thibault has been erratic at best and spent most of last season on the injured list. Unfortunately, buying out the last two years of his contract would cost the Penguins 1 million, money the organization cannot afford to spend. Caron was inexpensive at $240,000. (Can you imagine getting paid that much money to go play for another team? Unreal.)

4. Qualifying offers were given to the following players: Colby Armstrong, Ryan Malone, Brooks Orpik Marc-Andre Fleury, Jani Rita and Niklas Nordgren.

Andy Hilbert, Konstantin Koltsov, Tomas Surovy and Andy Chiodo will become unrestricted free agents on Saturday, along with a couple of other players.

Why do they keep trading my favorite players away? I would like to see Surovy remain with the team. And the decision to qualify Jani Rita is puzzling, since he signed to play in Finland next year. It seems counter-productive to make him stay when he wants to leave.

All will be forgiven if they resign Martin Straka.

Last Night...

I had a dream that Don Cherry was on Canadian national television making fun of me for posting the Crosby/Ovechkin photograph. He called me a puck bunny.

I woke up disturbed. I think I'm going through withdrawal.

Hockey's Future

Pay attention, because sports writers are going to be setting these two up against each other for years to come. On the left is Alexander Ovechkin, age 21 of the Washington Capitals, 2006 winner of the Calder Memorial Trophy. On the right is Sidney Crosby, (almost) 19, of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Crosby was second place for the Calder Cup.

This is the first photograph I have seen of Ovechkin smiling. He should do it more often.

Weather

Very little of interest has happened in Pittsburgh this week. With Big Ben out of the hospital, the Pirates in the cellar (again) and total apathy towards the World Cup, the only topic people have left to talk about is the weather.

Even my fellow bus riders have been well behaved. The combination of heat and wicked thunderstorms has taken all the life out of them.

Slashdot is having a debate over companies that limit their hiring to H-1B workers to circumvent paying industry standard for programming jobs. It is also easier to trap those workers into sub-standard contracts and bad working conditions, since firing means they have 1 month to find another job or leave the country.

I turned 33 on Wednesday. It was an ordinary birthday. I took the day off to run some errands and spent several hours wandering in circles through Barnes and Noble trying to decide what reading material I should take on my trip.

I finally picked up a copy of Umberto Eco's The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana and George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London.

I was also seriously tempted by Victorinox's Lingo Cross Flyer Messenger Laptop Tote in the shade Azalea/Fog. I don't need a new laptop tote. But it sure is pretty. As is the rest of the luggage in that style.

In the evening there were friends, food, and cake with cream cheese frosting for dessert.

My gift from J this year was a copy of Art Spiegelman's The Complete Maus. Since it is a set of books everyone should read, I frequently loan out my paperback copies, which are now damaged from unnamed parties bending the front covers back over the spines of the book. A practice I detest. Unnamed parties also do this with library books, and it is very difficult to resist the urge to slap their hands.

New Photos

I'm uploading photos from Flickr, so they might be a little bit wonky for a while. I'm still experimenting with sizes and compression rates. So far they are all small and I'm not sure how to increase the size without killing the margins.

I'll spare you the many, many photographs of the cats I have taken since Thursday, but I am going to introduce you to Wigford, the Maine Coon

Jay, these were taken with the new camera.

Wigford

Wigford
Originally uploaded by lcuy2 (Jenn).

My high strung, easily startled, woman-loving, bird watching, (part) Maine Coon cat.

Merkids

Merkids,
originally uploaded by lcuy2.

Playing in the fountain at Point State Park.

Paper Kittens

Paper Kittens,
originally uploaded by lcuy2.

Cher Guevara

Cher Guevara,
originally uploaded by lcuy2.

Taken off a friend's t-shirt. He was in town for Pridefest and wandered from the North Shore over to the Arts Festival because the street food was better.

I'm supposed to be in the picture, but edited myself out. Anyone who has seen the Seinfeld episode where Elaine ends up revealing a little bit too much in a photograph will understand why.

I am a Bad Person

Really, I am. I should not be anticipating the culture clash that will take place if my in-laws go ahead with their plan to attend tomorrow night's Pirates game, with this much glee.

My mother-in-law called this evening. She wants to know if we are interested in going to the game tomorrow evening with the rest of J's family. Normally we do not watch the Pirates with his family since J's father is incapable of paying attention to the game and insists on distracting everyone around him. He does the same thing when watching movies and it is very annoying.

To start tomorrow is Pittsburgh Pridefest, held every year on the North Shore near Heinz Field and PNC Park. The day's activities conclude with the Pirates game which is heavily attended every year.

And the Anthrocon Convention is in town. Tomorrow night is the Masquerade, so there is potential to see people dressed up as their favorite furry creature.

And they don't know about either event.

And I'm tempted to not tell them.

I am a bad person.

Giddy

I purchased a new (to me) brand of rum today, Gosling's Burmuda Gold, and I am feeling a little giddy after sampling it in some Coke. Giddy enough that I managed to drop a both a rechargeable 9-volt and an EN-EL3 Lithium-Ion battery onto the floor while trying to figure out how to set up the charger for the latter. Later I managed to prove that there is such a thing as too much garlic (I honestly did not think it was possible) when I poured too much garlic powder in my pasta and ended up with my mouth on fire.

Giddiness may also be a result of the new toy that came today, a Nikon D50 camera, which I have a little over a month to learn how to use before I leave for Paris. After I dropped the batteries J asked me to resist picking up the camera until tomorrow for fear that I will break it. Right now he is installing the battery and attaching the strap to the camera.

I can't wait to take some photographs.

Picking up the camera was an interesting trip. My neighbors bombed their house recently sending hundreds of spiders into our back yard. One of them decided to take up residence on the driver's side car window, a fact I did not notice until I was in the car and ready to pull out into traffic.

Since I'm not fond of spiders, especially hairy black and white ones the size of nickels, I closed the windows and left the sunroof open, thinking that my little un-friend would eventually fall off the car.

But the traffic was stop-and-go and after a few minutes I decided to close the sunroof and turn on the air conditioning. While sitting at a stoplight I looked up to see the spider crawling across the sunroof. I spent the rest of the trip shuddering, brushing imaginary creatures off my legs and trying to find something to kill the spider with if it happened to make an appearance inside the car.

Thus ends the adventures of giddy Jenn.

Ahh, the Allure of My Hometown

Is the invention of peanut butter hotdogs. I think Palumbo's has created the ultimate All-American junk food. Think they should market them during the All-Star Game? How about Battered Deep Fried Peanut Butter Hotdogs?

Yes, I did grow up there. No, there is not much to do there. The biggest event in the area takes place 20 miles away on February 2, otherwise known as Groundhog Day.

Penguins Fans, Rejoice!

Evgeni Malkin will be joining the team this fall. It will not be enough to keep the Penguins in Pittsburgh, but I'll get to see the team go out on a high note.

F***** Fatigue & Advice From Dear Abby

My morning internet reading routine includes a round-up of advice columns and the comics. Pedestrian, yes, but I am not a morning person and can't handle heavier news items from outlets such as the Washington Post and New York Times until later in the day.

I've also been in serious head-in-sand mode for the last oh, four years, because I cannot stand listening to one more report of the latest atrocity caused directly/indirectly by Commander Cuckoo Bananas and his fearlessly stupid gang of fruity sidekicks. Our country led by a man who has never had to face the consequences of his actions.

I have the same reaction to one of my brother-in-laws who thinks the optimal way to solve Pennsylvania's financial problems is to abolish the property tax, give tax breaks to corporations (other states are doing it!) and raise taxes on everything else. The word "regressive" is not in his vocabulary.

So it is refreshing to become annoyed at the letters published in columns like Dear Abby.

Today it was a woman who wanted to know if her daughter was legally married in the United States (wedding was held in Mexico) because of a delay in changing her name. The daughter had explained that she was waiting on a translated copy of her marriage certificate and that Spanish version was not valid in the United States.

Abby, ever the professional, reassured the mother that marriage was legal.

My question is why is this any of the mother's business? And why, if the question is about the legality of her daughter's marriage, is she so hung up on the state of her daughter's last name?

My crap-meter has been in overdrive lately.

Updates

Update I

My dad's surgery has been moved up to July 11th. I am taking the day off to hang out with my mother. Thank you for all your prayers, feverish and otherwise. My mom is nervous about the surgery, but it is sooner and my dad will get well.

Update II

"She Who Will Not Be Named" has a new book out. You all know who I am talking about. The book is, of course, an utter waste of trees. Tony Norman of the Pittsburgh Post- Gazette has an interesting idea on how to claim the identity of "Christian" from those whole stole it and the best spot-on description of "She Who Will Not be Named", to wit:

"Because her blond mane and feral eyes give her an uncanny resemblance to all four horses of the Apocalypse.."

Moving on now...

Update III

Also in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette this morning was a short article titled Pa. may lift ban on wine shipments.

The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has particularly restrictive blue laws. Wine and liquor can be purchased via a state store, beer only from a licensed bar or beer distributor. Wine can also be purchased directly from vineyards and wine stores and shipped from in-state vineyards directly to a consumer's home.

When the Supreme Court ruled that in-state and out-state wineries could not be treated differently, the PLCB attempted to ban in-state shipments, and were promptly slapped with a restraining order so shipments could continue while the commonwealth studied the situation.

Governor Rendell is developing a bill to permit out-of-state shipments of wine. There is a catch, however. Wineries would not longer be permitted to sell directly to restaurants, and all shipments would be taxed at 18%.

The 18% tax provision is a holdover from the Johnstown flood and needs to be abolished. Forbidding wineries to sell to restaurants is stupid and indicates that the Governor is not interested changing the law, but in making people think that he will do something about the situation.

PSA Part II

...in which karma turns me from fashion judge to fashion victim.

Yesterday, while riding the bus home, I was chastised by a strange woman who did not approve of my shirt. Strange Woman did not direct her comments towards me, but at the air surrounding our seat as she sat down. To quote “Great! Nice to expose your big breasts and belly so everyone can see them”.

I raised my head from out of my book and looked around the bus. It was the usual mix of 5:30pm commuters. No one was dressed outrageously. I looked out the windows of the bus. I did not see any fashion victims on the street, or any half-naked women.

I lowered my head back into my book and was about to dismiss her comment as the sort of random thing I hear when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her raise her hand and block the right side of her face. As if she was blocking me out of her periphal vision.

She held her hand to her face for several minutes, then proceeded to rummage through her purse, sigh loudly and mutter underneath her breath until the bus reached my stop. I smiled, sweetly asked her to let me out of the seat, and got off.

I was wearing a perfectly respectible shirt. It was linen. It had flowers embroidered on the front and back. It was a sleeveless v-neck with a collar. It was pink! It passed the mirror test!

The only way anyone would have been able to see down it is if they were 1. Taller than me and 2. Standing directly above me and deliberately looking down. Which, because I was sitting and she was standing, is the only way she could have seen down my shirt.

I've moved well beyond being offended by the offhand comments and strange behaviors of fellow public transit riders. Occasionally I am irritated by stupid behavior , normally I simply amused at how little it takes to annoy people.

Bradley's Book Cellar

The downtown branch of Bradley's, an independent book seller, closed sometime in the past month. I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know quite when, as I have been insanely busy between work and my current family crisis.

But closed it is, as the building that housed the store is being torn down (along with most of the block) to make way for a new development by PNC Financial Services Group. The owner searched for another space, but the sudden interest in redeveloping downtown Pittsburgh limited his options, and he was left with no choice but to distribute his stock between locations in Kaufmann's, Station Square and the Strip.

Bradley's was one of my favorite after-work haunts. To reach the store you had to walk down a set of stairs into a cellar, into a large, brightly light, musty smelling room. It was packed from front to back with shelves selling everything from remaindered hardbacks to de-accessed library books. The stock was standard fiction, non-fiction, books-on-tape and magazines that you could find at any big box retailer. The difference was the eclectic selection of material and cheap prices.

What made this Bradley's truly special was the reader's proofs. For less than $5.00 I could pick up a galley proof of a current bestseller. The downtown store was the only place in Pittsburgh I could find them.

The downtown Kaufmann's location is still open (sans cheap reader's proofs), but for how long is still up in the air. Kaufmann's is now Macy's in everything but name (which will be changed soon) and there is a distinct possibility the store will be closed.

A Public Service Announcement

Ladies, please! If your white pants are so thin that you must go without panties to wear them, then they are too thin to wear in public. I saw more revealed today from one woman in white pants then in 2+ years in my gym's locker room. That is a very BAD THING.

And DON'T tell me that you can't find panties. A thong, seamless bikini or brief in a color that closely matches your skin tone cannot be seen. Wear bright blue granny pants and call it a fashion statement for all I care, as long as I never have to see any woman's pubic hair through their pants ever again.

This Cannot be Happening

I am past the tears and entering phase pissed at this point.

I called Mom today to let her know that we were coming down late tonight for the wedding shower tomorrow. After some needless discussion over where J and I would be sleeping (the house will be full, we will have to take a couch) she told me about their trip to see the surgeon yesterday and the tenative dates for surgery.

Dad is having a procedure called a da Vinci Prostatectomy. It is done by a surgeon via Robotic Hands. Pretty cool once you get past the fact it is being done on a family member.

The date the surgeon is attempting to schedule is July 18th.
The alternate, more likely, date is July 25th.

I think my head might explode.

Whoops

We have two cars. The first is J’s, a 1992 Mazda Miata with a manual transmission. He only drives it in good weather because the odometer is pushing 160,000 miles and the roof needs replaced. He has been talking about replacing lately and everytime the conversation comes up I point out that it is paid off, the insurance is a pittance and I am paying the bill. Then I ask him to wait until we get the second car paid off.

We share a Volvo S40. I love, love, love this car. It is my dream vehicle. It has a sunroof and heated seats. We purchased it used a year ago and have had very little trouble with it.

Earlier this week I handed the registration renewal and a check for $36.00 to J. His task was simple: fill out the odometer reading and insurance information (since it is in the car and he is driving it to work everyday) and put it in the mail.

Yesterday's morning conversation:

Me: Did you mail the registration?
J: Yes.
Me: Did you fill out the insurance and odometer reading?

-- Silence

J: Oh, shit.

So busy was J, while at the Post Office, making sure that all the mail had the correct postage he forgot to fill out the renewal form. Instead he stamped, sealed and mailed without a second thought.

This weekend I will renew the registration online and pay an additional $36.00 for the privilege. I hold out little hope of getting the first check back and am certain that this will not be the end. Because it is the DMV.