M-CUPS

Though the Matryoshka trend appears to be on the decline this smacks of awesome.

As a small space dweller with limited cupboard space, any item that can double as decoration is downright practical.

Do you believe it?!!?!

5 years of married-togetherness.

I know a genuine king!!!

The Hobo King, aka Tommy the Greek, aka Inkman.

I met Tommy one day when he wandered into the shop down in SODO. He singled me out saying, "You look like a good Irish girl" in what can only be described as the one of the strongest South Chicago accents I've heard in some time.

What followed was a conversation that lasted over an hour, and had nothing to do with anything in the shop. Tommy speaks in varying rhythms. He shares openly. His pattern goes from rapid fire to ambling to quietly searching. We talk about Chicago, about food, about what brought our lives to Seattle before it all drifts back to Chicago. He tells me he's a Hobo. I tell him I can't recall ever meeting a Hobo to which he flashes his classic nearly-closed-eyes, wide mouth grin.

Since that first day, Tommy stops in the shop occasionally to check on me. He shares his history as a Hobo. It's an amazing one. He shows me some of his "hobo nickels", and comments on his tattoos. Tommy's acquaintances are just as interesting as you'd think, too. A mafia boss, professors, politicians, shop keepers, not to mention herds of other Hobos.

Tommy keeps life interesting. He doesn't mince words. Life is simple - no credit cards, no cellphone, no computers. He was off the grid until being named King of the Hobos. He's proud of his title, but was even more proud when he told me about the headstone him and fellow hobos made to honor their friend Preacher Steve.

I have met a lot of interesting folks in my lifetime, most likely due the careers I've pursued. I often wonder if these characters are meant to refresh my perspective on life. Tommy is unique, though. He's not chatting over a beer with the benefit of "booze philosophy", he's just Tommy. He's the Hobo King. He's a rough and tumble, hardworking welder. He's a storyteller. He is, as far as I have known, as genuine as they come.

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Justin
Originally uploaded by 오드리

Docking the HOR's Pay

For the purpose of this story, the House of Representatives will from this point on be referred to as HORs (pronounced hohrs).


If the HORs are going to spend valuable time playing wag the finger and wearing snooty, holier-than-thou-britches, I do not want to pay them. They should not get a single f***ing dime of taxpayer money to "formally admonish" someone. They can take their formal admonishment, in fact, and shove it up their arses.

It's as though they are playing reruns of Dallas in there heads. Everyone is dramatic and glamorous and so incredibly self-righteous. However, in reality our problems are a lot bigger than sustaining some a**hole's 15-minutes of fame.

Yes, whats-his-nuts was a jerk. But this waste-of-a-Tuesday vote took valuable time away from legislation that actually matters to the American people. What we're left with is one less day these a**holes will spend discussing health care, the economic crisis, or really, anything remotely pertaining to their constituents' concerns. Instead they choose to pat themselves on the back for what amounts to antics you'd expect from an adolescent student body. Okay, that's not fair. Adolescents wouldn't take the time to vote on sh** like this.

The HORs should all be ashamed of themselves. Even the ones who chose not to admonish the tool, should be ashamed that they did not boycott such an asinine and monumental waste of time.

The decision to choose this as a topic for session proves all to completely that they do not give a rat's ass about the people- none of us - conservative, liberal, independent, vaguely socialist, etc. They get paid to do nothing.

"Okay dudes. I know, like, that there are some seriously knarly issues we should pow-wow over, but let's all make fun of Joey first."