Wednesday, April 16, 2008

The Weirdness of Wednesday

First of all, the name itself is WEIRD! And I keep having to look it up every time I need to write it. I mean, it's pronounced Whensday, but the written word has all kinds of Ds and Ns seemingly randomly placed through it.

So my Wednendsnday started in a bizarre enough way. (That I will not mention here, because, well because there ARE things I'd rather not let the cyberspace know about.) But it was unusual and the perfect unnerving way to start a day.

Then I lost a pair of pants. Yes, PANTS! Not a bra, not one sock, not an earring, a whole pair of PANTS. My favorite ones, those I needed after that morning's disturbing start. So I looked around the whole apartment, with Luna frantically making figure of eights around my pajama-clad legs because I hadn't fed those beasts yet. And the pants are lost. They are not anywhere, not even in the I'm mourning...
But I'm pretty sure they will come up in a few months covered in dust bunnies and cat hair. Hopefully, they will still fit as perfectly. I'm beginning to believe my own theory that my apartment is infested with object-hiding Gnomes and Faeries. It would explain so much.

Then on the bus-ride to work, I spot this guy I see every morning. There are many teens taking the public bus to school, all with their own level of strangeness, ranging from gold-lame legging wearers to those with pants barely hanging around the knees. (What a stressful fashion that must be to follow...damn.) Most of them re-applying sparkly "pink-crush" lip-gloss or nodding to the sound of Avril Lavigne or Fall Out Boy blaring from their respective IPods.
But this one boy, he's the kind that could be pretty, 16-17 years old, short blond hair, blue eyes and all, but who obviously would attack if called pretty. This is the last thing he seems to want and I guess that's why he wears the whole bad boy costume: way too large, dirty, holed jeans accessorized with chains and anarchy symbols. Dirty leather jacket and worker's boots (un-tied of course). You all have a mental picture...
Now imagine mister badass here, sitting on a bus, talking to his badass friends, being all rebel and anti-society and unique...suddenly taking out of his rugged pack-sack a small bag full of vanilla, strawberry and cream cookies. Very *pretty* looking cookies, shaped like flowers.
And slowly starting to open them and lick the cream filling carefully before daintily eating the rest....

What the rest of the day has in store for me, I'm impatient to know.

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