More Reasons to Keep My Damn Mouth Shut

I spent a long, long day at Bumbershoot, Seattle’s excellent arts, comedy and music festival, where we saw many, many excellent bands.  My friend EZ and I had decided to see the guys from Human Giant as our comedy selection, but it turned out David Cross was a surprise addition to the comedy lineup. David Cross rules, so we got passes for the show. David Cross, in case you were unaware of this, is dating Amber Tamblyn, who recently was in that movie about magical pants.

Walking across one of the lawns toward to Intiman Theatre, I joked to EZ, “Hey, maybe we will see Amber Tamblyn.”

“Yeah,” said EZ, “We can tell her how much we loved her pants movie. Or we can just be rude and yell PANTS at her.” We had a good laugh. Why would Amber Tamblyn take time off from her busy pants-promoting schedule to come to lil’ ol’ Seattle?

We get settled in our seats and guess who sits directly behind us in the tiny theater.

Yeah.  Amber Tamblyn.

Obviously, I am awesome!  What I say happens!  I am like God and all the infinite possibilities of the world are open to me!

So what do you think happened later when, sitting on the lawn watching the patently awful Saul Williams, I flinched as a seagull flew too low?

“Why are you so scared of them?”  EZ asked.

“I’m afraid one will shit on me,” I explained.

Two seconds later, I had a big ol’ bird shit on the leg of my jeans.

Sigh.

The Curse of Karma

I guess after spending more time than ordinary bashing the looks of Michael Phelps (which wasn’t an issue before Dennis analyzed his fucked up face) I had my payback, which was an extensive dream of not only having Michael Phelps in my dream, but attempting to be him too. Sure, some would argue that being Michael Phelps wouldn’t be that bad – the whole being good at something and the money that follows. However, if I were Michael Phelps and anyone gave Dennis a thousand dollars, I would be tongued by Dennis along my teeth. Sick.

Anyway, so in my dream I had received two bronze medals for events unexplained. I did, however, grab both medals, which suddenly turned into big, bronze ears, and hold them up to my head and go “Eh he, I’m Michael Phelps!” at which point I saw myself as Michael Phelps holding up very exaggerated ears up to my head. What this means, I’m not sure. But clearly, given the choice, I would have dreamt about something far more pleasant, like Dennis’ smooth, flat surface. Curse you, karma!

Building Woes

So I moved to a new office building and despite the nice view of the bay – I can see planes take off and land at SFO – there are a few things that are a bit unnerving about the actual facilities:

1) All three elevator permits expired in 2006 and there are stories that people have been trapped in them during the weekend. I still take them rather than hoofing up and down four flights.

2) The womens bathroom has archaic disposal methods for period stuff and on top of that, the toilets don’t really flush. It takes several flushes to get the toilet seat cover and toilet paper down so I feel bad for those flushing logs of shit and tampons, especially at the same time.

3) Our actual office probably fits around 100 people, we have 8. So, something tells me I won’t have to worry about flushing and elevatoring fairly shortly.