my stapler is pink...

...which has nothing to do with this post. It's just, I can see it with my peripheral vision and I couldn't come up with anything catchier. (Haven't had ANY coffee yet...damn.)

So last night Jeff and I went to see Avenue Q.

Holy shit.

That was the best fucking thing I've seen in a while. I laughed so hard I nearly pissed the seat. It was great. I wanted to take a picture of the marquee to put on this blog, but I forgot to grab my camera out of my purse. I guess seeing puppet sex on stage stalled my synapses.

Afterwards, we went to eat. As we were walking, a bird just fell out of the sky and died. It was really strange. It was 10 at night. Don't birds sleep at night? But this one just fell out of the sky and died. Like that.

A few feet ahead of him there was another dead bird on the ground. What the fuck was going on? I wondered if there was some sort of bird cult at the top of the building and if they had just each had a drink laced with poison--ending it all in hopes of reaching some Mother Bird in an alien nest orbiting the moon.

Probably not, I guess. But still...two birds in one night? Just dropping dead out of the sky? I didn't like it.

This morning I woke up and headed into work from Chicago. I was thinking about how I can't wait until I start at JV on June 2nd. Mainly because I'm just really excited, but also because it would have been a lot closer than driving back into Indiana---only to sit at my desk and make sure that all of the check stubs from 1999 to present are in numerical order.

Yes. This is what I do currently. Crap.

As I drove down Foster, I noticed a man walking, hunched over himself, white hair spraying out of the sides of his scalp. He wore dingy jeans and an old blue sweatshirt. I couldn't tell if he was deep in thought or if life had just vacuumed out all of the hopes and dreams in his head. On the one hand, he looked as though he had quite a lot to think about, but on the other he just looked sort of empty. Talk about a walking contradiction.

But what really struck me was the bluish-purple bruise around his left eye. He didn't look like he would be a fighter. He actually looked brittle and frail. Who would punch this man? And why?

I remembered a friend of mine that used to hang out at Ravenswood Pub coming in with a black eye once. He was a really nice guy. He explained that he had been walking down the street when a guy came up to him, asked him for some change for the CTA, and when our friend told him he was broke, the man just punched him in the face and started running.

I wonder if he woke up from winter hibernation and is back on the streets, punching random people in the face again.