BALLARD CULTURE JAMMER GRAMMAR

You are a green sign hung surreptitiously sometime between October 5 and 6 at the intersection of 11th Avenue Northwest and 45th Street, near one of many makeshift tent encampments frequented by people getting priced out of life. Presumably you aren't suggesting in your flawless municipal script that ALL homeless people are tweakers, right? Just the tweakers. As long as they're congregating there, this seems a fitting enshrinement. PS: You mean Tweakers'.

SELFISH AT SEA-TAC

You were sitting in a waiting area at Sea-Tac Airport watching videos on your cell phone without headphones and with the sound turned all the way up. The weird part: You were an adult, not a child—meaning, you were old enough to know that the world doesn't revolve around you and that shared public spaces are only tolerable/shareable when each of us makes a small effort not to annoy the living fuck out of everyone around us.

STALKER ON 11TH

Two questions for the person wearing a bush costume and stalking people in Cal Anderson Park: Why were you also wearing clown makeup, and what was the blue ball for?

POLITICAL DOG

You stood in the doorway of a packed city council candidate forum on a Tuesday evening with a silent, tiny dog (a Chihuahua?) tucked in your shiny black jacket. Did you plan on bringing your dog to that forum? Did you find it in the doorway? Any sense of which candidate the dog plans to endorse?

RED APPLE CHECKOUT

You were checking out at the Red Apple, wearing workout clothes and silver glitter eye shadow. You were telling the cashier about your life; you used to live in Federal Way, but now you're back on Beacon Hill. "Don't get it twisted," you said, wagging your finger. "I left him."

GOOD NEWS: I'M DRUNK!

You really, really want people to accept Jesus Christ. You really, really don't feel like you belong in this world. You said all this while sitting down on the sidewalk, so as to appear "less scary." It was a Wednesday evening around 6 p.m. You really, really smelled like booze. You said you were going home to go to bed. Sounded like a good idea.

METAL DANCER

You were down front at the Godflesh show at El CorazĂłn, losing your mind while demonstrating that metal dudes can dance. That small glimmer of positive energy was refreshing.

SCRUBWAY

You were wearing scrubs, alone in the Subway sandwich shop on a Thursday evening. Your surgical mask looked like a giant baby angel dangling around your neck. You were just staring up at the menu, dumbfounded by the bright cartoon sandwiches.

BABY HEADBANGER

You are a tiny human with a shock of light gold hair. Your mom brought you and your little brother to an office meeting. Adorably, you played with your brother quietly under the table. But you kept on banging your head against it when you stood up! And you hardly cried. Props.

"LIKE" WOW

You were scrolling Facebook in the window seat on the impossibly slow route 32 bus toward Fremont on a Tuesday night, being very generous with your "likes."

LUNCHING ON HARVARD

You were a construction worker on your lunch break, covered in brick dust, using a tortilla to shovel giant mounds of rice into your mouth as you stood on top of a five-story building and gazed out over the city skyline.

THE "OH" IN NORTHGATE

You were walking by yourself in the street. As you passed the corner of Fifth Avenue near Northgate Mall, you stopped, mouthed "Oh!" and reversed direction. Another woman craned her neck to watch you as you walked in your new direction, your "Oh!" filling up her whole head for a minute.

SAD DOG AT SU

You were on the Seattle University campus, texting while throwing the Frisbee for your dog. Except that you were doing a lot more texting than throwing, and your dog, waiting longer and longer with each exuberantly returned toss, was beginning to learn how little time you have for fun.

POSITIVELY 4TH & WASHINGTON

Everyone's drunk in Pioneer Square after a soccer match, but you were the drunkest, arguing with your girlfriend on speakerphone. "Just tell me where the fuck you are, and I'll come get your stupid ass," you told her. "I'm at Fourth and Washington, Jesus Christ," she replied. "If you don't tell me where to go, how can I pick you up?" you countered, obliviously. You were too busy bumming a light from someone waiting for a table at Damn the Weather to hear her say "Fourth and Washington," again. The DtW patron informed you that you were at First and Washington and your mate ("that bitch," you called her, almost crying) was at Fourth and Washington, then physically pointed you in the right direction and sent you on your way. Though your destination was a mere few blocks, no one believed you would make it.

NIGHT TRAIN ON BROADWAY

Tuesday night/Wednesday morning: You were an unlikely vision after midnight, glowing yellow and filled with uniformed workers holding clipboards. Everyone has been wondering when you were going to show up, and there you were, emblazoned with the words "Test Train." Moments later, you were rolling slowly southward, gliding down the rails that routinely send bicyclists flying ass over teakettle into the street. And then you disappeared into the misty night, as deliberately as you'd arrived. recommended