July 20th, 2006


(no subject)

Thrilling Two-Fisted Tales of Commuters Observed:
Call him... The Sprinter. I see him at least once or twice a week, getting off the Orange Line with me at Virginia Square. A couple inches shorter than me, maybe fifty years old. Polo shirt or button-down shirt with short sleeves, khakis, just below business casual, out of style glasses, well-worn backpack. White hair, balding on top; now that I think about it, he's got something of a Paul Schaeffer look to him. Like me, he lines up by the door closest to the escalator leading off the platform. Unlike me, as soon as the doors open, he jogs off like a shot, runs up the escalator, and is gone daddy gone before I even hit the turnstiles. Where is he running all the time? No clue, I never have the energy to follow him.

Also, why do I always say Paul Anka when I mean Paul Schaeffer? Yeesh.

more stalling

M. and I played Zombies! last night, using not only all the rules, but also the FAQ. Game is so much smoother, and remarkably, *so* much faster. As in, I barely won last night, and that only a hair's breath away from M. getting her 25th zombie kill. Also, I practiced some card cycling, and oh, such an improvement.

Tonight: long-awaited return to Heroclix.