OK. I’m dead. I just wrote an entire passage explaining how dead I was and then accidentally closed the window when I leaned on my keyboard. So in short, it’s 4:52am, I haven’t slept more than 3 hrs/night all week, and I stayed here to import files and draw a washing machine. I got stuck here longer because it’s deluging outside.

Why do I do these things to myself? But yay, Andrew thinks my washing machine is sexy.

Time to pass out on my keyboard now. ;lkjsd;afahsklhkdiienfjffednj

Some people need to read the newspaper

OK, so it was requested of me to update my LJ. Some people say they need something new to read and are tired of reading about pork livers.

So here we go.

I’ll write about our trip to Marche last week (“our” meaning Becky, Scott, Neeka, and me.) So we sit down in the usual spot by the stairs to eat our much deserved supper. Shortly into our meal, the fire alarm goes off.

Sidenote: I have never been to Marche where something weird hasn’t happened. Whether it’s people getting sick and puking on the table (it wasn’t me), or receiving a used to-go container from one of the help, something always happens. This time it’s the fire alarm.

So this isn’t just any fire alarm. The minute the alarm stations start blaring and flashing lights, these huge metal garage door-like things drop down and block off most of the exits. Very wise feature to have incase of a fire. :o/ It was as if someone had robbed a jewelry store and bars come down blocking the entrance so they’re trapped inside.

This goes on for quite a while. Despite the atmosphere of noise and lights, we go ahead with our eating, because it’s obviously a false alarm… all except Neeka that is. She’s trying to sit still without panicking, but then finally jumps out of her seat and says, loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear, “THIS COULD BE ARMAGEDDON!!” So of course, people turn around and look. The odd thing is, this is something a senial, old lady would probably say, not an 11-year-old. So this was funny. Finally, after about 20 or so minutes of loudness and firefighters tromping through, killing the Euro-ish atmosphere, the emergency is over and we are at peace.

That was my experience at Marche. Funny thing afterward as we leave, this homeless lady approches Scott outside Marche and says in a pitiful voice, “Please help me, sir. I’m homeless and hungry,” to which he replies with a smile, “That’s OK.” That’s getting quoted. I never understood why homeless people beg for food in expensive places. I think they’d have more of a chance getting food from someone outside a McDonald’s or something. Granted, it may have enema juice in it, but then again, beggers can’t be choosers.

But that’s OK.

The Bathroom Diaries. Part Deux.

And I’m on my second week streak of odd bathroom findings. First was the enema. <shudder> Now this discovery doesn’t really have to do with the cleanliness of the establishment. More like just an odd thing to see.

I’m at North Station about a half hour early to catch my 9:30pm train. To kill time, I go pee. One of the things I don’t really care for is that instead of having a covered container to put pads and what not, they have just an open trash bucket, like the kind that would be in someone’s cubicle. No one cares to see that stuff. I don’t know why they don’t cover it. On the other hand, if it were covered, I wouldn’t have made my discovery.

So I’m in one of the small bathroom stalls and before doing my business, something large and dark catches my eye in the bucket. What was it already? PORK LIVERS. Yes, someone threw away an unopened package of pork livers in the bathroom stall. So first thought was, “Ewwwww,” cause livers just look nasty. Dunno who could ever eat them. Second thought was to hurry and get photos before crowds start coming in. So I shoot and then pee. Of course, by this time a horde of people come in line to use one of the three stalls in the restroom just to see someone occupying the middle stall with their feet facing the wrong way and a flash going off about 6 times. It’s clear I’m not going to get out with no one seeing me so I sheepishly gather my things and leave the stall and wash my hands. The things I do for the LJ.

So here you go. $1.19 pork livers, unopened and not yet expired. Sad thing is I know enough people who would’ve found this as a treasure and taken it home as a free meal.