Whatever blathering I planned for today has been superseded by a story the Keelhauler just called to relay.

"What are you up to?" I asked him.

He affected the breezy, insincere tone of a certain yacht broker we know, and claimed to be "Living the life! Living the beautiful Santa Barbara life. Reducing my carbon footprint, encouraging others to be more green... in their... lives."

He'd just gotten off the bus, and was walking to his car.

"How was the bus?" I asked, and he shared that a large, unkempt woman wearing "one of those skirts that looks like an upside-down flower, you know, kind of short and has a bunch of layers" had been seated in the row ahead of him, across the aisle. Halfway through the journey, she raised herself halfway out of her seat and removed her skirt.

"What was underneath?" I asked.

"Underwears," he answered, then revealed that she had proceeded to change all her clothes, including her bra. "I mean, the bus has a motherfuckin' bathroom, people! If you really can't wait to change your outfit, USE THE MOTHERFUCKIN' BATHROOM!"

"Did you take a picture?" I asked, hoping, but he hadn't, claiming he'd looked away. I don't know how he simultaneously witnessed the changing and looked away, but that is part of the mystery of being the Keelhauler, living his beautiful Santa Barbara life.

Star of the day. . .Geetz Romo