June 25th, 2002

(no subject)

dear seattle and bellevue drivers:

you see that traffic signal? see the box on the pole? see the little white human shape in it? that means that I, the pedestrian, the one not contained by 1500 pounds of steel, has the fucking right of way. this does not mean that it's your job to flip out and make your right turn as soon as the light turns green, narrowly missing turning me into a pancake. i will glare at you, i will cuss at you, and one of these days i'm going to get pissy enough to start calling plates into the cops. (not that that'll likely do much good... i'm sure that the cops have better things to do than worry about pedestrians being pancaked in Factoria). just let me through. i won't take that long, and then you can be on your merry way.

love,

a disgruntled pedestrian


--

in other news, it's fucking hot out there. my scalp is sunburned. my face is crispy. i finally got smart and bought sunscreen - kids stuff, but spf 30, supposedly water resistant, so that i won't sweat it all off - and i'm going to start applying it religiously.

time to get my ass out to the library before it closes...
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