being passive agressive in the citaaay

My favorite text messages are the ones like this: “The d-bag you slept with and who tips like shit is on my bus. Should I send him your hellos?”

I almost hid, even thought I was safely in my own apartment. But it’s good to be reminded that those d-bags are out there, and that they are within one degree of me, and that, if the circumstances were just slightly, I could be there, avoiding eye contact or making horribly awkward conversation.

Because let’s be honest- there are several “d-bags I have slept with” that live in Seattle, and I pray every day that I don’t have to see them- but every once in a blue moon, they appear out of nowhere and give me a heart attack. These d-bags will DEFINITELY be making an appearance on the Seattle Tattle, because bizarre shit like running into guys that have treated me wrong  happens on a regular basis.

Simply being thankful that I wasn’t on that bus last night.

i love/hate seattle’s drawbridges

First of all, I think bridges are pretty awesome. How do you even build a bridge? I have no idea. But sometimes I think I’d like to know, and then I realize that it would probably take a lot of math class. And then I decide to just enjoy the ones that other people built.

But here’s what I don’t think is awesome: being a car on a drawbridge when it goes up. It happened to me today on the University Bridge and I actually screamed a bad word and threw my head back in frustration as I saw the bridge stoplights turn red and the bells start to ring. My window was open, and so was the car’s next to me, and the driver looked over sympathetically and nodded in agreement.

Because let’s be honest: boat owners have got to be a minority population in Seattle. Especially people with boats that require the bridges to open and close for them. So really, there are probably less than 1000 boats like that in the area (forgive my math, I’m just guessing).

But how many drivers get stuck in traffic when the bridge opens and closes? Probably about 250 people each time, which means that we, (the automobile travelers) are made to suffer so that a wealthy person in a giant boat can sail through.

roommates and their boyfriends

After living by myself for four years (minus 3 months), I decided it was stupid to pay a zillion dollars a month for an apartment that was a) nowhere anyone would ever come visit, b) was somewhere I only slept, c) a place I never decorated, and d) had a super annoying building manager.

I calculated the cost effectiveness of having a roommate and determined it would be a smart move, and so I did it.

But what I didn’t bargain for was the relationships that my roommates were in. The boyfriends and the ex-boyfriends.  I’d like to compare as I try to figure out which one is worse.

Roommate #1:

Roommate #1′s boyfriend didn’t speak English, and she didn’t speak Spanish, so she didn’t really understand when he was making fun or being completely rude. Despite the language barrier, they still managed to have some knock-down drag out fights, complete with fists and hateful words. But you know. She “loved him”. Even when she found out he had a secret family. Even when he called her fat.  And despite all the horrible things he was and the horrible things he did, his name was actually brought up, 8 months after their break up, 9 times in one evening. Nine.

Roommate #2:

Roommate #2′s boyfriend was her boyfriend, then wasn’t her boyfriend, then was her boyfriend (secretly for four months), and is now her boyfriend, publicly. Despite the fact that he’s technically still married (and his wife occasionally spends the night on the couch), the fact that he had a girlfriend when he started seeing my roommate, and there are weekly rumors of harassment and infidelity… she claims that “I (her friend) don’t know him, he’s really nice”. Uhh, yeah.

So as it turns out, I guess living with a roommate and the memories of her ex-boyfriend is just about as painful as living with a roommate and having to see her horrible boyfriend regularly.

the three things i know about my new crush

I have a new crush in Capitol Hill. It’s this guy I used to see every so often around my office building downtown. I assume that he is a deliverer of sorts, since I’d always see him coming out of random buildings. The only reason I noticed him in the first place was because once upon a time, we used to have a payroll company that used bike messengers to deliver our paychecks. And our bike messenger was cute cute cute and I looked forward to his delivery every two weeks.

But then we stopped using that payroll company, so I never saw him again but every time I saw my current crush, I’d think it was the original and I’d pray that I looked presentable.

So this new guy is a really severe-looking and smaller version of the original crush. And here is what I know about him:

1. His backpack and locations spotted suggest that he delivers things (documents, checks?) around downtown and Capitol Hill. But I’ve never seen him on a bike, which makes me wonder how he gets around fast enough to make him worth employing over a bike messenger.

2. He wears the same thing every day, or at least every time I see him.

3. He likes crossword puzzles. I know this because I ran into him on the #49 bus and he was completing one.

I will keep you posted on further developments.

relationships i’m not jealous of

So at this point in my life, it feels like everyone I know is married, engaged, talking about getting engaged (or not getting engaged, like they’re really making a STATEMENT), celebrating an anniversary or just starting a new relationship, or suffering through a stupid one.

I do not find myself in a similar situation – and hold your horses, I’m not about to complain about the single life. Quite the opposite: I wouldn’t trade places with any of these people. Frankly, I don’t envy any of these relationships and I’m going to go out on a limb and say that being single has simply got to be better than this:

Take, for example, my friend who is dating her older (still married but separated) boss, and has been doing so secretly for 4 out of about 8 months. She kept it a secret because we, her friends, make it no secret that he is not good enough for her. He is, among other things, a smoker, cheap as hell (she pays when they go out) and a poor conversationalist. He’s nothing to look at and selfish in bed.

Yes, I am quite sure that being single is better than dating him. Maybe I should thank her for there being one less creep out there, preying on the rest tof us?