that Foreigner song

"I Wanna Know What Love Is?" Probably the most annoying song of all time.

Weird moment of the week:

I was at the bus stop this morning so I could go downtown and pick up my beater bike which was stashed at the Civic Center Bart/Muni station because when I came home from Berkeley the other night it was just so cold and I was just so tired that I just couldn't face the long largely uphill ride home so I left it there, and ride said beater bike down to the Hall of Justice so I could drop off Sticky's Certificate of Completion of Traffic School (as a favor to him), with a stop before hand to my guilty pleasure Haight Street McDonald's to absorb some carbs and do some Probability and Statistics homework... so anyway, I'm at the bus stop, and there's this stack of 3 books on top of what appears to be an unrolled lightweight sleeping bag and a ragged quilt, half on the ground and half on one of the transit shelter seats. The books are "Wasted: A Memoire of Anorexia and Bulimia" by Marya Hornbacher, "Listening to Prozac" by Peter Kramer, and "A Man in Full" by Tom Wolfe. I figure the stuff is orphaned, so I pick up "Wasted" and start to read the back cover. A pierced teen chick with shaved head approaches and says "those are mine, but I found 'em..." I put the book down and said "no prob, I just can't resist picking up books to see what they're about, it's a sickness..." the chick looks homeless, and I figure the dirty bedding materials are hers, too. Next an old Chinese woman comes up. She sees the pile of stuff and starts to say something shrill in Chinese, making gestures of "drawing inward." The homeless chick, who has been standing in the street anxiously scanning for the streetcar, comes back to the shelter, probably because she thinks we're messing with her stuff. The Chinese woman starts to point to the homeless chick's bedding, saying something unintelligible and making her gestures. The chick just seems confused. I finally understand what the Chinese woman is trying to get across, that the homeless chick should put her quilt inside the sleeping bag so it won't get dirty and will be aesier to tote around. In the meantime the chick, embarrassed and confused, has gathered up her stuff as best she can and is standing in the middle of the street with it. The Chinese woman and I dedcide to take matters into our own hands and go over to the chick, take her quilt, and start to fold it right there in the middle of the street. The Chinese woman is sorta orchestrating the maneuver with deft precission, and I remark to the chick "Grandma's the expert here." We finally get the nasty bedding all folded and packed into the sleeping bag just as the N Judah comes rumbling up to the stop. I fish around in my bag to find a couple of dollars to give to the chick, but she's already snuck onto one of the aft cars.