I’m pretty out of it when I walk from my back door up maybe one block and to my bus stop. I hate mornings and don’t function well. When I see things I want to remember, I tend to take a picture, upload it to Flickr, and then I’m instantly reminded when I look at my Photostream over the course of the next day or so. Sometimes, though, I go through days where I don’t exactly read much on the internet except Pereze Hilton, because I need to know if Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are having new babies yet.
Tonight, I was reminded of the picture I took at the bus stop Tuesday morning, thanks to Minneapolis Metblogs.
It’s not like my bus stop is on a major street. I suppose Bryant Ave has it’s fair share of traffic (like the four cop cars in a row this morning), but it’s not really full of traffic that gets stuck at the stop sign long enough to read some PSA about a flesh eating disease.
Now that I’m perfectly aware of what necrotizing fasciitis actually is, I’m excited to be able to wish it upon people I see on a somewhat regular basis. Not people at work, though. No, not at all.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to ride the 4 (sometimes sprinkling in the 4B just to spice things up a bit) and I’ll do my best to spread such pubic service announcements such as these. And, you know, this might very well explain why that man from several days ago was so vigorously adjusting his junk.
