Bacon and Gunfire.

I am sitting in my neighborhood coffee shop (yes- chucks on and laptop open. I'm laughing at myself right now. There is a neighborhood gathering at one of the tables that, based on their conversations, is a special kind of group: gathering the only white people in the neighborhood, and drinking together once a month. They're talking excitedly about community building in Northeast and having "all" the neighbors together. It's pretty great. Other redeeming factors of this otherwise noisy group? A baby at the bar (yes- there's a bar at the only coffee shop I frequent. shut up). "You brought your baby to drinking night!" "Aw, he looks so little on you!" Just some of what I've heard on this.

Other good stuff...
B (quietly): "I really wish there were bacon on this gingerbread."
Me: "I'm sorry... what?"
B (sternly): "you heard me."

E, on lessons learned in the neighborhood represented above: "Well. Since moving to northeast, I've learned that gunfire from the inside sounds like thunder, while gunfire from the outside sounds like fireworks. "

"Does anyone ever tell you that you look just like Ellen DeGeneres?" -at least three people per week, ever since I cut my hair. Yup- Ellen. Just the look I was going for. Short blonde hair and a snarky demeanor? There you are. I like to think I favor Scarlett Johanssen. Or Angelina Jolie. Nope- not even Portia... Ellen.

"There are very strict rules on that dance floor." -dude at the bar, on Remingtons, a capitol hill gay mans country western karaoke bar.


"I am SO done with the Holocaust. But it's the next book in book club." -chick at the bar. "I didn't know about book club! And they STILL haven't invited me to game night." -dude she's chatting with. Talk about some real problems!

They're the best. It's like - the drunker they get, the better!