p.s. to route 217

monday i could smell the lipstick of the woman sitting next to me on the bus bench, as i ate my cold veggie hot dog. that i could smell it meant it was SO old that it was rotten. gross.

p.p.s. the 217 is actually much much more than just enabling my undergarments for w-day. it also links me without driving to the region to which i still drive-fairfax. whole foods (both!), swingers, genghis cohen, chao krung, etc. maybe not manis, but the rest of the glory.

though that lipstick-uncool.