This morning resulted in a detour on the 41 to the T to Sunnydale. The 41 was exceptionally dull. The T is usually another story. Sunnydale, unlike the place of a similar sounding name - Sunnyvale, home to the quagmire known as Yahoo! - is in a less savory part of San Francisco and the average morning ride includes a couple of stocking-capped gang members grabbing their crotches, looking a tweaked and commuting to an ass capping party or someother event that requires a team jacket.
A gentleman who, based on his track suit, cap and glasses, is evidently under the impression that he is Sameul L. Jackson hopped up on meth decides that we are going to be friends, possibly even lovers. The dialouge ends with him promising to consider looking into getting a job so he can take me some place real nice. I want to recommend he shut down the lab and invest the money he spends on sudafed in some toothpaste but my contribution to the conversation was simply "Hunh? Oh sorry. I thought you were asking me for directions."
Verizon and Google appear to be in some sort of snit with Google refusing to publish posts.