My Knee Feels Better, Thanks for Asking

Today was low on ridiculous, I must admit. Maybe I'm just used to the fact that Latin busboy types will always find the need to start at me, even when I'm twirling my (fake) engagement ring around my finger. Which totally turned my finger green. Thanks, fiance. Also, my food coma was ridiculous...but that's a personal issue. You know what just WAS? Our jaywalking. Comm Ave frogger, as I call Boston jaywalking, is a studied art form that does not result in death unless you "forget" (read: are in absolute, reckless defiance of) the green line that runs trains down the middle of the street. But here, it's more of a HOLYSHITWEARERUNNINGACROSS4LANESOFTRAFFICWITHASOLIDFRACTIONOFTHE POPULATIONOFLITTLEARMENIANEXTTOUSANDBUUUUUUUSSSS!! and then you are walking into your destination, cool as a cuke, brushing your blonde bangs from your enhanced eyeballs. Good times.



No, it wasn't this day that really deserved blogging. It was yesterday, the Tuesday that is the gem in my week. Damn, my week isn't over. No need to fret, I can already feel it. This was my gem.

Santa Barbara tuesday

The mission? Look at a prospective school (me) and interview for prospective jobs (Kat). It promised to be the most boring, longest (6am alarm) day ever spent in a tourist town. That should have tipped me off right there.

It started off promisingly. It was 50 degrees in August in Southern California, so I bundled myself up in preparation for exposure to that frigid temperature. The drive was also predictable...no alpaca sighting at the farms this time around. I expected a beautiful, cold, less than exciting day. Wrong. Sort of.

It wasn't that cold. I had to take my sweater off about an hour post best mocha ever. What's incredible about Santa Barbara is that it is it's own island, a self contained city with plenty of people and beauty and not much there. So the coffee shops were absolutely bustling at 8:45 am. And, typical of any beach community, everyone was dressed like they were about to jump in the ocean at any given moment.

My day was less than awe inspiring until UCSB was reached. And that's when everything turned silly. As we walked on campus, I was being strange and loud and making jokes about Kat staying in the skate lane/almost dying, as usual, when this kid in a purple polo and arm cast just walks by us and smiles like we are so quaint. He was attractive, so it was excused, but since when am I a tourist attraction? So, lunch, which took so long to make (those damn sandwiches are so friggin complex) that I couldn't eat before my transfer information session. And who do you think is the only other person waiting for the session? Mr Smiley in the purple polo. It figures that I make an idiot of myself in front of the one person I'd be sitting next to for the next hour.

And now, comes the true gem. Joe. Oh, Joe. He was our transfer adviser. I have nothing but love for Joe, and Joe has nothing but love for....biking. UCSB is the land of 15 000 bikes...and Joe shared more bike stories than he did admissions information. An hour...about bike riding. I can't even ride a bike. I was dumbfounded. There was a chronicle about how each of his bikes got stolen. About the time one of his bikes almost got stolen but didn't but did get run over. There was the story about how he has a bike locker on campus, won in a lottery. He told us about his daily bike transit, and about how people misuse bike roundabouts and get into accidents. He told us what lock to get for the bike that will inevitably become our lover when we get to UCSB. Joe even showed us the bike straps and sneakers he was wearing around his rolled up pants...rolled, because they were too long for his bike.

COME ON, MAN. GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF.

But at least it was amusing, I suppose. Philosophy major girl was super serious and almost ruined it until me and purple polo gave her the stink eye to chill out.

And the rest of the day went on. The only other hilarious part was when Kat and I lost every ounce of energy we had, and I encouraged to make shit up on her application before I got raped by the men who had been eyeing me in the coffee shop. Then we managed to get lost, traveling in circles, and I was laughing because Kat said her pants were too constricting and then she called me a sillypantsface..typical.