I sneeze on buses that have juggling sunglasses.

I officially have a cold, and I feel like death warmed over. And that breaks my little heart because I cannot stand being sick. I'm one of those people who, when they're experiencing any sort of physical discomfort, just whines a lot. Plus, it's been a while since I've been sick, so as I felt it coming on, I welcomed it with a smoldering dread. However, I've decided that I refuse to be ill. It just won't do. I can't call in to work, and I will not deal with being miserable. It turns out that the local remedy is two shots of tequila with a wedge of lime. One person informed me of this miracle cure, and I interviewed several others as to its authenticity. It turns out it's real. And thus, in about 15 minutes I shall be going to a bar with a friend to take care of business.

The Bus from Hell has become the Bus from Not-Quite-All-the-Way-Into-Hell-Maybe-Like-Purgatory-Or-Something. The beginning of October was the harbinger of a new route for the month. Apparently they switch every other month. This month, I get right on the bus, and it takes me right to my job. So for the month of October, I don't need to switch buses 10 minutes into the commute, and I don't need to be screwed over by the shit-head bus drivers who either like to ignore my ringing of the bell and drop me off a mile from where I need to get off, or just don't ever come to the stop until I'm forced to take a taxi. October is the month of glory. The month of singing angels and rays of light. The month of peaceful commuting. Until November.

You know what I love about Mexico? The cool shit like the street entertainers. Sometimes people will hop on the bus with their guitars and tamborines and play a little tune in hopes of a few pesos. Other times entertainers will stand in front of the line of cars at a stop light and do something sweet, like contortionism or juggling. The other day, some guy came out with flaming batons and and a little acrobatic dance while spinning those firey devils all over the place. It might seem annoying to the natives, since they're basically doing it for cash. But at least they're not the assholes in Minneapolis who come up to you with a sob story like "My father lives in New Hampshire and he's got 2 days to live and I need $100 dollars to ( get me some bizooze ) get there on a bus." These people have guts to get out there in front of an audience in traffic and pull of some seriously talented shit. If you're ever here and you see one, drop 'em like 5 pesos -- they really deserve it.

Finally, I got peddled on the street for sunglasses today. Now, I live and breathe for sunglasses -- the more ridiculous the better -- so I was hooked immediately. What was awesome is that he wanted to sell them to me for 30 bucks, because they're Gucci knock-offs. Please. Like I'm going to spend 30 dollars on cheap imitations when I could buy my own cheap imitation at the stand at the mall. I told him I didn't have any cash on me. Well, he wouldn't give up, and eventually I pulled 30 pesos ( 3 dollars ) out of my back pocket and told him it was all I have. And now I have sexy sunglasses. I'm assuming he just wasn't having luck getting rid of them so he took what he could get, because he walked away looking pretty sad about his failure to make bank, but, whatever. I'm wearing these mothers at night.