A few things happened to me today that I feel are worth noting, at least on a blog such as this where the threadbare editorial standards are conducive to brief, disconnected vignettes on "life's little annoyances." I know, I know - "Don't sweat the small stuff." But this isn't small stuff, people. This is proof that God hates me.

Although He kinda digs your fanny pack.

Can you handle my truth? Behold:

1. I've worked in downtown Washington (Golden Triangle, represent!) since graduating in May, and I still have not devised an effective method of avoiding fellow alums. I swear to you, I run into these people all the time - people with whom I've nothing in common but the unfortunate coincidence of having graduated from the same school at the same time.

This is not a tie that binds; this is merely an event that we acknowledged six months ago and from which we all should have swiftly moved on. Oh, but no! Instead I must run into what's-her-name on K Street and exchange hurried oral dissertations summarizing our lives since the window of weekday binge drinking and afternoon naps slammed shut.

Believe me when I say this - it's not like I want to burn any bridges here. I simply want to avoid crossing them in the interest of allowing them to collapse from disuse. Is that so wrong?

Meh. I'll rebuild it when I need something from it.

2. I glided into CVS this afternoon without having to lift so much as a finger, thanks to the homeless doorman evidently recruited by my favorite drug store to greet customers with a jolly "Spare change?" No, sir, I have not - but do have yourself a great day!

Once inside, I made sure to pick up two Diet Cokes and a large bag of M&Ms, but of course neglected to buy the one thing that gave me a reason to go to CVS in the first place: Blistex!

I misplaced my Blistex three days ago and have stubbornly refused to buy a new one. Because you know the moment I buy a new one is the moment I'll come across the missing one. And what a glorious, prophetic moment that will be.

ENABLER!

3. Lastly, a Metro rant. I cruised down K Street today at 6 p.m., leaving behind 17 - no, seriously, I counted - Metrobuses in my wake. 17 Metrobuses! And by which mode of transportation did I achieve this, ahem, feat? Take a guess, my friends. That's right: I walked.

I WALKED BY 17 METROBUSES DURING MY STROLL FROM 21ST STREET TO 14TH STREET. Okay, just making that clear.

Anyway, I reached the 14th Street bus stop feeling quite clever for having avoided the trap of the D6 bus still idling in traffic seven blocks away. But the Metro gods would not let me go unpunished for such a brazen display of enterprise. Oh, no - they had me wait 20 minutes on the corner of 14th and L Streets for a bus that, in the alternate dimension from which the Metro bus schedules broke free, arrives every four minutes. Man, if Metro isn't opening one door, it's closing another!

The bus eventually came, bringing with it the wrath of 100 passengers who, like me, had waited a small eternity for this piece of shit on wheels. Nonetheless, I had places to go, so I climbed aboard the packed bus, which was then further handicapped by some guy in a wheelchair attempting to hitch a ride, as well. "Sorry, Lieutenant Dan," the driver might as well have said. "This bus has already raped the maximum number of passengers as permitted by law!" The poor guy - hopefully the next bus didn't resemble something that had just evacuated New Orleans.

A few blocks before my stop, the bus was still full. But this didn't stop a mother and her six kids from forcing themselves on board. "EVERYONE MOVE BACK!" the awful woman demanded. "EXCUSE ME! I GOTTA BABY IN MY ARM!" Indeed, she did, as well as five other children and a stroller. However, while six kids might entitle her to welfare, they certainly did not entitle her to a ride on that bus. As she and a few other passengers continued to act like animals, I squeezed myself off the bus and walked the rest of the way.

Anticipating a cherry atop my fuck-you sundae, I half-expected to be gang raped or at least stabbed in the abdomen for my iPod during the final stretch to the Gentleman Friend's apartment. Sadly, I was spared. Oh, well. There's always tomorrow.

"Oh, I'll give you something to cry about!"