i consider myself to be a city slicker. I can ipod and balance on the metro handsfree if there aren't any seats left as good as the rest of them. but the fact i just used the term 'city slicker' may prove that i still have some country bumpkin in me after all. real addicts don't call themselves addicts; real rich people never call themselves rich - and real city slickers certainly don't call themselves city slickers.
today i learned a trick that any ol country mouse might learn on their first day to the big city.
You actually have the push the crosswalk button if you want the crosswalk lite-brite (not a typo, father) man to appear so you can cross the street.
not at every light. but certainly the one at the corner of landsdowne and st. catherine.
Just yesterday I waited there for two full rounds of red lights before ho-humming in frustration then checking for cops and jayrunning to the other side, and I told Nelson so as we approached that very light this evening. Less than a millisecond later we watched as a girl pulls her pointer finger from her jacket pocket to push the crosswalk button in slow motion.
well whaddya know? i thought those big round buttons were just for people who liked to smear their DNA around.
nelson says he needs to start writing down the things i say so he can forever reread how blonde i sometimes can be.