When i'm commuting on the bus, I tend to think about the meaning of words (perhaps not entirely unusual for someone who grew up speaking in 3 languages and having parents who translated documents for people and who watched ASTERIX instead of TRANSFORMERS). The way that the word "Pretty" can mean both aesthetically pleasing or cute in a frail way or as a modifier describe how something was, as in "that movie was pretty bad." If english wasn't your first language, you'd find ever so many sentences confusing.
I am horribly random, always have been. My sister called me "the queen of red herrings," and she still does. *Red herring meaning non-sequiturs/abrupt changes of subject, particularly if the conversation is veering in a direction I find uncomfortable. I feel that my conversational purpose is much the same as an airstone in an aquarium: to maximize the oxygen level and create micro-fine air bubbles. Circulate. Move things along so that they can't get weighed down. A dead space in talking can be like the Gulf of Mexico's "dead zone" (depending on whom you're talking to) and that isn't acceptable as far as I'm concerned.
I want to write a lot more but I'm procrastinating on my huge account management class project--which no one in our group has even started yet. Eeep. Due on friday.
Robin and Biff and me all went to the Wendy's Drive-Thru to pick up some takeout for everyone late yesterday, and the person taking the order from the microphone thing, every time we said anything started yelling.
"I'd like a bacon cheeseburger combo."
"WHAT KIND OF DRINK??"
"Oh. Hey, what kind of drink do you want?"
and so on and so forth. It was kinda funny in a late-nite drive-thru way. We ended up watching "Single White Female" which has to be one of the most grungy bizarre psychotic thrillers ever. It was great fun.
Finally, here's the most amazing Roscharch-test music video ever.