Remember my Karaoke Kutie, Kenny? (Forced alliterations are still a beautiful thing)
A little refresher: He's the lovely bottle cap glasses-wearing crooner that performs on one-car trains. His favorites? He loves Alicia Keyes and, while it doesn't need to be said, he REALLY loves himself some MJ (That's Jackson, if you're nasty).
Anywhoo, there he was again today, on my train, sitting a few rows ahead of me. He had his weather appropriate huge sunglasses on, a backwards hat and a bright green cut-off shirt. And what was he drinking? Why, a sippy cup full of chocolate milk, of course; which he was so graciously offering to those around him. He had his white boom box but singing was the last thing on his mind. He was to busy reaching into his knapsack and showing off his many libations. Gatorade, Coke and of course, more mmm, mmm, yum, chocolate milk. But as funny as a grown man drinking chocolate milk out of a sippy cup with bottle cap sunglasses on is; that's really not the point of this story. I know it's taking a long time to get the point (I am a rambler), but it's a hard point for me to get to.
As he was zipping up his backpack, he looked up spotted me, wiggled his fingers and yelled out in his lovely little nasally voice, "Hi Erin..."
After getting over the initial shock that he remembered my name, I smiled, focused for a second and noticed something that was all too serendipitous. At that moment, I knew how much I was going to hate telling you and how much you were going to love knowing it. The crazy crooner, famous for his one-car sing-alongs, well, (deep breath) he was wearing an Oregon shirt.*

Side note: I stick by my Ducks and the fact that I went to an accredited Journalism school. Some disloyal dumbie dropped that shirt at the Goodwill and Kenny just happened to find it. He has no association with my Alma-mater. Got it?

Apparently, everyone is thinking about their jobs and how to make them better. Today a stranger dropped a pearl of wisdom right in my lap. I was on a one-car train, so this is really my fault, because we all know a one-car train is just a glorified short bus. But anyways, this man, probably in his late 50s, wearing pleated khakis (so you know he knows what's up), spotted me in the crowd and walked towards me. We exchanged smiles (crap!) and then, I didn't see his face again because he reached up and grabbed the bar above my head and instantly became, just an armpit. So now we'll call him Mr. Armpit. So the voice behind the armpit says, "Expecting a long day?" I tell him that I'm sure it won't be too bad; I'm just glad it's Friday. Then Mr. Armpit drops it on me: "You know, when my days start to get monotonous, as most of our jobs tend to do, I like to do something to spice up my world a little bit." Ok, now I was intrigued. It's not everyday that an armpit in pleated khakis makes an effort to 'spice' up his life. So I ask, "Like what?" And boy, did he have an answer. "Well, at the end of a long day, I like to take the train to Ocean Beach. I like to go there and feel the wind on my face and just think about life. And you know what I do next? I take one of those sand dunes and I move it to another location. I pick up all the sand and move it somewhere else. And then you know what I feel? I feel like I've changed the world. And I feel better. Because you know without me, those sand dunes would just stay the same."
At that moment, as fate would have it, his stop arrived, so he turned back and said, "Now you go out and change the world, you can do it. I can see it in your eyes."
Thank you, Mr. Armpit, thank you.

Yesterday someone asked me if you were cool. Not just any somebody. The guy working at Supercuts. He seemed very interested. It's also important to note that three days earlier, I was walking home from the Easy Freezy and he was perched inside the display case, staring into space, on all fours, like a frog. He wasn't displaying a thing, just; you know, surveying the action. But anywhoo, when I was buying your hair stuff, he picked it up and said, "a hair stick for cool people? He must be a really cool person." I tried not to make too much contact (you know, obviously the freak flag was flying), laughed and nodded my head. But, no way was he going to be deterred, so he kept going. "Well what makes him cool? What are the qualities that make him so cool you would buy this for him?" I replied with a few 'I don't knows' (I didn't write the flipping advertising!) but he wasn't having it, he kept on probing. So finally, I gave up and left him standing there, mouth a gape, with this little pearl of wisdom, "He never asks people if he's cool." I probably can't go back there for a little while.

My day so far: IT has been here for about an hour, trying to fix the newest problem in a long string of mini-disasters, with my computer. So I'm on another computer, watching them and laughing. This is a pretty accurate depiction of what is occuring:

http://www.truveo.com/Zoolander-In-the-Computer/id/3405265599