Dear diary,

Today I had a moment.

A moment when I realized that somewhere between all the assholes and the detours and all the fucking crazy shit that’s gone down while wearing my bullshit blues that I’ve graduated from a sweaty pitted, fearful fledgling to a full grown I-don’t-give-a-fuck-because-if-you-don’t-move-your-car-I-will-shit-on-it-Falcon!

It’s too much trouble to paint you an exact picture of the situation that I found myself in today so It’ll have to suffice to say that I found myself getting fucked between a VTA bus and a couple of shiny new, ugly af, cone-like additions to my usually clear path. The annoying new barrier, that came without warning btw, lopped off about 4 feet of clearance space that would have normally allowed me to make that particular corner with relative ease.

So there I was sandwiched in, blocking two lanes of traffic as cars stacked up in each direction. Fledgling me would have had to pause and breath as the sweat poured from my body. I would have apologized to my passengers before getting out to apologize to all of the people angry at me for blocking their way and then I would have walked over to the bus behind me and asked, with apologetic eyes, for him to please help me back up and fix my mistake. Taking blame for the entire situation all the way through.

Falcon me on the other hand, threw up my wings in that universal “what the fuck” way, before popping the maxi brake with indignant purpose and jumping out of the seat. I stepped out of the bus and gave one of the cone-things a swift kick to confirm that I really couldn’t just plow the fuck right over it. When it didn’t budge I turned to the now 5 deep pile of angry drivers glaring at me and doubled down on their frustration with an even angrier glare daring someone to honk and (surprisingly) no one did. I looked back at the confused VTA driver as I pushed away an image of fledgling me quietly peeping out an “excuse me sir, would you mind…” and then I screeched “BACK ME UP!” In his general direction before jumping back into the seat.

Without a damn word he backed me up and we straightened out and then off I soared on an a fat updraft of fuckits. My metaphorical wings spread wide; ready to shit all over any barrier, metaphorical or otherwise, that dares to get in my way.

And THAT Diary, is the story of my graduation.

Tracy Morgan’s hobo doppelgänger got on my bus today and his eyelashes were the most picturesque, delicately curled examples of perfection that would have made a doll jealous. Then, before I could grab ahold of her the little Double Standard Devil inside of me said to him “Excuse me sir, has anyone ever told you that your eye lashes are PERFECTION?”

He giggled and bowed his head in mock embarrassment as my brain exploded with flashbacks reminding me of all the times someone’s said weird shit to me.

But before I could start to give a fuck that at least 27 people on the bus heard me being a creepy weirdo the Double Standard Devil inside my head whispered to me “Fuck it, it’s Friday and your hair looks FANTASTIC. That’s gotta count for something.”

And so when he smiled at me on his way out and said “You know, you’re really beautiful too.” I almost wasn’t disgusted with myself for letting him think I was hitting on him.

So I guess if I can’t beat the creepers with a metal bat, then I’ll just have to beat them at their game.