Commuting With Crabby
Before I even started my commute this morning, I noticed that the front windows of the cute little mosaic studio around the corner from my house were smashed in. Three squad cars were parked out front with their lights flashing.

Two minutes into my commute, a taxi t-boned into a little Honda hatchback in the middle of an intersection. Squeal, slam, shatter. I've been in enough car accidents to be very badly affected when I see other people have them. So far, this morning sucks.

At Dundas and Sherbourne, a cop jumped out of his cruiser, grabbed a scruffy dude off his ten speed, tossed him to the ground and cuffed him. My streetcar cruises past at a leisurely pace so that everyone can crane their necks and stare. Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

At Dundas and Jarvis, man barfed off sidewalk into street. Cyclist swerved into traffic to avoid the splash, nearly got killed. Difficult choice, I admit: boozy vomit spray or traction. Your thoughts?

And how was your ride in?

Out of Hand and In Bad Taste
It's hot, it's dark, it's a state of emergency, and this is my 100th posting. What better time for Ice Queen to issue a proclamation of Lesbian Week on Crabby Says? In celebration of our exclusively partisan sisters, I invite you to share your lesbian fantasies, tell your dyke jokes, stop shaving your legs, and burn your bras.

I'll start you off. In an effort to fit in at Concordia University in the late 80's, I stopped wearing a bra for a short time. That's when my sisters could stand up by themselves. The times they are a changin'. And one time (not at band camp, although I did go to band camp), I slept in a bed with another woman and a man. Nothing happened, but it's the closest I've been...

Oh go ahead, be rude.

Just What Every Girl Needs
I saw SpongeBob SquarePants at the corner of Bay and Queen yesterday. He caught me smiling, and gave me a kiss and a hug and a coupon for a submarine sandwich. He'll never know what he did for me that hot, sunny afternoon. Sometimes, a little bit of affection from an upholstered cartoon character is just the thing.

A block later, I was handed another coupon, this time to have a professional bra fitting. This is something I've never considered doing, as a career, or as a customer. "Maybe I'll go for it," I thought to myself. Every girl needs at least one pseudo-lesbian encounter in her lifetime.

The bad news today is that our coffee supply has fallen victim to our prez's "let's do our part" campaign. Yesterday, no office lights, only one printer out of six working, water cooler and fridge unplugged, and don't you dare get caught at the photocopier or elevator. Now, no coffee. Is this constitutional?

Seen and Heard

In Little India and heading West on Gerrard: litter everywhere, for blocks and blocks and blocks. Get it together, people! Pick up after yourselves.

On CBC radio, Sunday afternoon: A Canadian Tire gas station in Hamilton advertised its gas at .99 cents a litre. When confronted by CBC, the response from head office was "we weren't, uh, actually, ahem, charging .99 cents a litre... we, uh, just posted that price to discourage customers from lining up for an hour."

In my garden: tired, shrivelling, dying plants. Maybe if I sneak out in the middle of the night to water my garden, nobody will assassinate me.

In my fridge: the back wall. I haven't seen the back of my fridge for six years. Most of those items were probably rotten long before the power went off, but it took a state of emergency for me to throw them away.

In my bedroom: sounds of outside. Our air conditioner is off. The windows are open. Man, this city is loud. Keep it down, will ya? Some of us are trying to sleep.