I find that I’m much more likely to ride public transit to work when I have something to read. And that’s even though it’s so loud that I can’t read sometimes. Today it was too loud because there were lots of kids going downtown to see the US Women’s Soccer Team play an exhibition match. I moved away, but they were all through the light rail yelling at each other. I’m not sure what the point was, but it would be like, “Ashley! Ashley! Ashley! (then another joining in) Ashley! Ashley! Ashley! Come sit over here!” Then someone in another part of the group would start with another name. Then there were some adults right next to me complaining about their McJob, which sounded quite bad, but what do I expect taking public transit? Certainly not lawyers and doctors.

So my buddy just called and had to tell me he was on a date. He doesn’t date much either, and the woman he was out with knew the NBA ref that crashed into the back of his car a few years back. I’ve told that story before, so I won’t repeat it. But there it is, three degrees of separation from the NBA ref this time. Last time I was a passenger in the car during the crash. I have two degrees of separation to Sam Elliott, who my sister saw shopping in Target. Apparently he grew up in these parts. The Target in question is one with semi-hot young girls working there. Well, they’re “Gresham” hot, if you know what I mean.