The international adventures of a singing, dancing zombie queen.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Crayzee watch...

On Tuesday? I think... I had a day full of crazy ladies. And not in the rollicking, vodka-drinking hotties sort of way, either. The first one was at work. She was really sweet, and really, she wasn't that crazy. It was mostly that she was about 40, and wearing pink pants with little dirt stains on them, and a banana clip in the side of her greasy, brown hair, diagonally holding a clump of hair behind her ear. And she talked sort of like a ten year old girl. She and her-- husband? son's baby-mama's (giving birth that day, which was why she was there,) daddy?-- were hanging out in the smoking shelter, and she commented on my shoes. She said things like "those are really cool. I like them. Those are cool. Yeah, I like cool shoes." And she was missing some teeth. In fact, she was missing almost half of her teeth. EVERY OTHER TOOTH was gone. Not a whole clump of them in one spot, but every other tooth. It looked kind of like she just had some really big gaps between her teeth. Man; at least floss wouldn't get stuck in there.
Later, I took the shuttle to the BART station at 16th and Mission, and there were some characters there, too. Immediately as I stepped on the sidewalk, an Hispanic woman came trundling past me, yelling, "those black bitches better stop talking shit! They better shut the fuck up! Those black bitches! They better stop talking shit!" She was wearing a knee-length skirt, and seemed to be totally speeded out of her mind. And, on each shin, she had at least 7 nickel-sized, black abscesses.
Then, I crossed the street, and stood next to a big young white boy-punk who had a little natural-red mohawk, and was playing electric guitar with a little amp in his backpack. He was playing Sabbath riffs, which was pretty damn sweet, so I stood next to him. Over his chords, I heard the voice of the next lady in question. She was tall, over-skinny, and African American. She was wearing clean clothes, but looked fairly cracked out, and got very excited about discovering an abandoned sleeping bag. "I got soooo much boogers!" she said, "I got boogers for sale! Come get your boogers for sale! You can pick 'em out! All kindsa boogers! Boogers for sale!!"
Ahhh, commuting.....
On a good note, the guy who I'm not working with has been deemed unable to return to work by his doctor. He'll be out at least a month, and he wants to go on disability, so this is good for him, too. They're putting me up to full time, and letting me be fairly flexible with my hours, although I will have to set them. eew. I'm great at working, I just don't feel very excited about having to worry about being late, ya know? Especially when I have a commute that varies by up to an hour, depending on whether I walk to BART, which train I catch, and whether--like today, both ways--I miss a shuttle and have to wait an extra 20 minutes for the next one. Poop. But all in all, it's a good thing, and if the gods of bureaucracy smile down upon me, I will get yet another raise/promotion. yey!
Here's hoping....

1 comment:

CurlyGirl said...

that is some funny shit! oh how i miss san francisco

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Dance & Fitness Faculty member at San Francisco Peninsula Community Colleges, Director, Choreographer & Featured Dancer, Founder of the Living Dead Girlz, and Owner of the Steele Dance Company, which provides entertainment for festivals, corporate events, conventions and private events. Teaching private dance lessons and creating choreography since 1997, Steele graduated from the University of California at Berkeley with a Double Major in Dance and Comparative Literature and completed her Master of Fine Arts in Dance and Choreography at Mills College. She has toured all the major cities in Germany and performed at the Cannes Film Festival as the featured dancer in TRIP -- Remix Your Experience, a multimedia exhibition of film, live music and art. Steele has also performed as a featured dancer for RJ Reynolds (CAMEL) promotional events. Steele currently manages the go-go dancers of "Poor Impulse Control," who perform frequently in San Francisco's industrial, alternative, and rock venues.