For a while a was a real wild child. I'm calming down now. For the time being.

In unrelated news, I bought a 1983 Yamaha Riva80. That's a scooter in layman's terms. Meet Spandy:



I've had cat hair stuck in my throat for the last hour. Can humans get hairballs?

over it. almost.

Every so often I get an idea stuck in my head and just can't get it out. That is, until I have researched and thought about said idea to the point of exhaustion. Or until I've actually gone through with the idea. Both have equal chances of happening. I'll figure out the statistics once I've passed that dreadful class.

This week it's scooters. On my recent, second trip to Portland, I had a dream in which my friend bought a vintage scooter on Craigslist for $25 and, needless to say I, in the dream, immediately fancied the idea of '50s dress-wearing Allyson cruising around town on two motorized wheels. Since awakening from my dream, I've had this burning desire to be fancy free about town. With the ever-increasing monthly Muni passes, it seems like being the proud owner of a 60mpg scooter might be an economically sound decision. Besides, I think I'd look pretty fucking rad (though more likely just insane) traveling about town wearing Margot in my leopard-print kitty backpack. Brainstorming ways to make a buck here and there so I can pay for a good quality scooter that will last me a while. Might actually resort to asking the grandma for miscellaneous paid chores about the museum, err, her home.

The following sums up pretty well how I envision myself looking with this new scooter.**


Here I am in color-coordinating outfits with my scooter gang of beautiful female friends. We're on our way to peruse vintage bakeware before snagging ourselves equally beautiful boyfriends over delicious microbrews. "I've only had two officer," as I hold up my index and middle fingers, combined with the brightest smile.


**Disclaimer: I often imagine myself living in a 1950s bubblegum fantasy world where I run around in a wardrobe consisting strictly of pretty dresses and hot ruffled bikinis. "Where the beer flows like wine and beautiful [men] instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano." A girl can dream. Shiiit.

In all reality, I'll end up looking like this minus the supportive yet fearful boyfriend on back:

Wanting more has gotten me nothing, for what is it that I desire?