paper scraps

Saw a small capital 'F' on the floor of the bus last night, on the way back from watching Fantastic Mr. Fox (almost as fantastic as i wanted it to be). It was formed from a many-trodden scrap of one of those little strips of paper that live between the rings of a binder and the perforation of the sheet of paper itself; that little forgotten strip that usually stays forever in binders across the world unless the binder belongs to someone OCD enough to rip the fucker out. i guess i got lucky.

In other news, i used to chew on paper while riding the bus. Not sure how or why this got started, but i do remember it happening during a brief period while i was in high school. Quite possible a stand-in for a cigarette, since i was never brave or stupid enough to smoke where i wasn't supposed to. But you do get a lot of stares, regardless, with little wet bits of pulp clinging to your sweater. This is a fact.

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And in Reasons I Love My Boyfriend news:

On the walk home from the bus stop, we had a tiny adventure.

Can we please hotwire this thing and ride it to Candyland? i asked, as we came upon a butterscotch-colored Camaro sitting proudly in the cold parking lot.

Man, i just want to go buy a butterscotch pudding-pack and put one right on the car...! Nat replied, ending what was possibly the best sentence ever uttered by man.

We ruminated on this (genius) idea for about twenty seconds, then realized that it simply had to be done. Across the parking lot and off to Von's we went, where, true to my form, i had to also purchase two frozen Indian dinners along with our fated Snack Pack; i can never leave a grocery store without something extra. Really. It drives him quite insane.

On the way back, i kept an eye on the guys who were doing some late-night power-washing in the courtyard to our left, when out of nowhere comes a homeless guy, asking for change for something to eat. Since this particular form of pudding is not exactly "food", we gave him a dollar instead. He looked at us for a moment and then said how wonderful it was to be young. (The guy thought we were 23, but still: he was on to something there.)

We bade him good night, then sidled over to The Car. Nat had popped one of the little containers out and was ready for action. Where do i put it?! he hissed. Quickly we decided that right on the hood, near the driver-side door, was the best place for the person to see it. i began to turn around in case the alarm went off and we had to book it.

Seconds later, and with no alarm ringing in my ears, Nat's step met mine. We got away with it! i only wish i'd gotten a photo of it, for evidence, but you will just have to trust me on this.

i sincerely hope that the driver of that Bitchin' Camaro has a sense of humor. And that they had butterscotch pudding for dessert that night, as Nat and i surely will tonight. C'mere, Yellows 5 and 6.