Thursday, May 21, 2015

Bandana Bitch and the Jihads

Yes! Busworthy’s back in action. Welcome back and hello new readers.

This domain name just auto-renewed, so it’s high time I posted a new tale of adventure.

I have been taking the Sounder train to work since the beginning of the year and the Express bus home, so I haven’t seen anything exciting. I did take the 150 a couple of times, but nothing really inspired me. You can imagine how thrilled I was to hear a good, old fashioned, busworthy recollection.

The story I heard from a new correspondent (Betty) today took place on the morning Express bus I should have been on instead of the train. Oh, I should have been there. The choice to take the train on this particular morning will forever torture me.

There is a new Express bus regular with a daily routine: She cuts in line to board the bus and never pays. How this happens, no one knows. No cash, no Orca card, no real explanation to the driver. This passenger wears a different bandana each day, and she’s definitely rough – yet decent looking. Betty mentioned her lack of fare to another rider and was told, in a strong Russian accent, “Don’t say a verrd. She vill CUT you.”

Betty calls the non-paying rider Bandana Bitch.

So one day back in April, Bandana Bitch pushes her way onto the bus ahead of the queue and enters free as a bird. Full on Ride Free Zone for this one.

The other passengers board the bus. Betty is sitting just behind the articulation, and Bandana Bitch is sitting nearby. Also taking their seats were a mother and daughter who were Muslim. The daughter was probably around 20, and they were both dressed in traditional Muslim wear. Disgusted by Bandana Bitch’s blatant disregard for the line and the fare, the Muslims were staring at her.

“What are you looking at? Stop staring at me.”

[Muslims continue to stare in silence.]

“I mean it. Stop staring at me!”

[Staring continues.]

Okay, on a normally silent bus, this is exciting. The passengers notice how the air has gotten still, much like the still just before a gunfight. Or a tornado. Or some other form of chaos.

Bandana Bitch gets up to move to the back, obviously wanting her morning peace. The two begin exchanging words (and silent stares). Muslim mother notices another passenger has gotten her phone out and is recording the skirmish. She approaches the amateur camera woman and goes to slap the phone out of her hand.

“Stop the video!” says Muslim mother as she draws her hand back to slap the camera BUT MISSES and SLAPS THE CAMERA WOMAN. The slap landed right across her face. Everyone on the bus watching let out a low “Oooooh!” That’s when shit got real.

Muslim mother and the camera woman got into a slap fight, and Muslim daughter was right there with them. Muslim mother began spitting at the camera woman and the camera woman shouted, “I’ll cut you! I got felonies. What are you going to do?” The spitting and slapping continued until there was a break in the action for some glaring.

“I’ll cut you” is such a common phrase in Kent. I love it. It reminds me of the drag queen on Taxi Cab Confessions who proudly announced, “I cut my way through Chicago.” Such imagery. It really puts you right there in the action with them. The cutting action.

Anyway, the next thing the camera woman said was, “Are you going to go Jihad on me? Do you have a bomb?”

With that, the bus driver pulled over and parked. He got up and with an “Oh HELL naw” the bus driver separated the spitting Muslim women and the camera woman. “We ain’t goin’ anywhere until this is over and one of you gets off.

Twenty minutes later, the women are still exchanging words and glares. The Muslims are still spitting toward her like llamas. By now, passengers are getting upset. People start telling them – some loudly – “GET THE FUCK OFF THE BUS! We’re late!”

Eventually, Jihad and Jihad Junior get off the bus. The camera woman had moved to the back of the bus to get away from the spit spray. She ended up sitting next to Bandana Bitch – who had started the ruckus and quietly moved to the back. Obviously she has felonies and possibly warrants and didn’t need any more trouble with the law.

For the finale, the Jihads banged on the window outside as they walked by, yelling at the camera woman. She grinned and waved to them. “Bye bye!”

I can’t believe I missed this morning on the bus. And thanks for the great reporting, Betty.

Friday, August 8, 2014

La Migra/D-Line/Duck Dynasty versus Big Booty Judy

It has been an active few days on the buses. I've been on a break from work this week, so what better way to spend it than riding buses, crossing those I haven't ridden from my list? Remember how I've made it my goal to ride every bus route in Seattle? Out of the 235 routes listed on Metro's website (currently - before they start eliminating routes), I have now ridden 44.

On Wednesday, I rode the RapidRide C Line - Westwood Village to Seattle, RapidRide E Line - Aurora Village (!), 150, 70, 21, 125, and the 12. Yesterday I rode the 150, 131, 3, 124, the Light Rail over to SeaTac, and the 180.

The C-Line RapidRide to West Seattle.
The signage. Sitting under this was a man with a creepy tracheotomy. I didn't get him in the picture.

Wednesday's bus rides were uneventful. Nothing busworthy happened.

Yesterday was a different story.

The 150 - La Migra

I got on the 150 at the James Street Park & Ride. That's only two stops from the originating stop at Kent Station. When I boarded the bus, it was already full. I moved to the back door to stand, as that's the most comfortable space.

As I walked down the aisle, I noticed something odd about the bus. Eerie, even. Everyone on the bus was quiet, speaking in hushed voices, and seated facing straight ahead. Everyone on the bus was foreign.

I don't mean "foreign" as in weird, which would usually be the case on the 150. Everyone was Ethiopian, Middle Eastern, Japanese, East Indian, and other ethnicities. It was really strange to see a whole bus load full of people speaking different languages, taking pictures and video clips of the outside scenery. Some people were wearing their traditional clothing. Jewelry, fancy hats, burkhas, etc. while others were wearing clothes that weren't in fashion over here. A common theme was button down shirts buttoned all the way up to the throat and jeans that were purposely bleached. Like the stuff from Ross that no one buys.

Of course, I'm standing there in the back listening to Green Day, chuckling about it all. I did have the urge to yell, "La Migra!!" ala Cheech and Chong (translation: "Immigration!!") just to see what happened. I resisted the urge. The fact that I didn't see anyone who looked as though they spoke Spanish helped me bite my tongue.

I'm wondering if it was an immigration testing day downtown or something.

LA MIGRA! Just kidding. It's the Parking Enforcement officers. They look busy writing in their notepads. They're probably just writing grocery lists. "Gatorade, eggs, toilet paper...."

The D Line?

I spotted the 3 on 3rd Avenue, so I got on it for sport. As I was getting on, a young woman in front of me politely asked the driver where she could catch the D Line to Ballard.

Young woman: "Excuse me, where can I catch the D Line to Ballard?"
Agnes, the hateful older 3 driver: "This is the 3. Not the D."
Young woman: "I know, but I'm trying to get to Ballard and I need the D Line."
Agnes: "What is the letter on that sign?" [Motions to the bus stop sign]
Young woman: "It's an E. But this is my second day in town -- "
Agnes: "Well maybe you should research it a little better!"
Me, to the young woman: "C'mon, I'll show you where the stop is. Let's go - before this asshole [Agnes] says anything else."

We boarded and she was grateful for my offer to help. She explained how she just moved here from L.A. She then asked me where I was going, and I told her with delight, "Nowhere. I'm getting blog material for my blog."

The young woman caught her D-Line and swore she'd read this blog. Props to you, young woman, for being so polite to Agnes. She can't help it. I'd be an asshole if I drove the 3, too.

You told me you'd comment. Go for it!

Duck Dynasty versus Big Booty Judy

I boarded the 124 - Tukwila International Boulevard Station via Georgetown on 3rd Avenue. I was surprised to see there were quite a few people on it. I moved to the back, standing at the back door. This was a new bus for me.

I was pleasantly surprised to see this bus had some rough characters on it. It was like gang land in the back of that bus. Tough crowd!

The bus sat there at the stop at 3rd and Spring. And it sat. The driver got off and another driver got on.

"What the FUCK is taking so long?"  A man shouted from behind me.
"I got places I need to be!" The guy in the articulation yelled.
"Mah milk's gonna go bad!" said a woman with groceries.

I recommend the 124 if you're looking for potential busworthy stories.
I thought they were switching drivers, as sometimes happens. But there was some sort of commotion up front. Two women were outside, visibly upset. The Metro sheriffs pulled up in front of the bus. That's when I hopped out the back door and took a seat on the bench right behind the front door of the bus - and a few feet away from the mayhem.

The sheriffs had the women stand toward the back end of the bus. The main woman causing problems was a very big, animated black woman. She was missing lots of teeth, but she made up for her lack of dental care with a huge attitude. I'm not sure how she could make up for her lack of brain cells from doing meth. Maybe by smoking generic menthol cigarettes and exhaling smoke at officers while explaining herself.

Her name is Big Booty Judy.

Big Booty Judy had a sidekick who seemed normal and was quiet - yet not embarrassed by Big Booty Judy's antics. Let's call her No Butt Nancy. No Butt Nancy didn't really have a role in the story. She was there for moral support.

The sheriffs went on the bus and produced a man who looked just like a Duck Dynasty character. He wore a rugged trucker hat, a leather biker jacket, a long gray beard, sweat pants and low top hiking shoes.

As officers questioned the three, Duck Dynasty dug around in his jacket pocket and found an old, red woman's change purse with a metal clasp. He opened it up and took out a lighter; he proceeded to light up a smoke.

An old woman was speaking to a third officer, telling on the two.

I couldn't hear what was going on or most of the story because buses were pulling in behind them and going around them. I did hear the officers telling Big Booty Judy that bus activities are video recorded and they could replay the recordings to see what happened.

Soon, everyone dispersed and Big Booty Judy, No Butt Nancy, and Duck Dynasty went their separate ways. I asked the old woman narc what happened.

Allegedly, Big Booty Judy got on and sat on the very small seat on the bench in the front. (This bench holds three or four people and has a small separate seat with a bar.) Duck Dynasty was sitting on the bench, and another guy was between them. Big Booty Judy started flailing her arms to get more room - which she totally needed because she was wide enough to take up the whole bench. The guy in the middle got up and left. She oozed over into the middle of the bench and started hitting Duck Dynasty. Big Booty Judy was smacking him in the arm and shoulder.

D.D.: "Hey! Watch it!"
B.B.J.: "You need to get up and let me have this seat."
D.D.: "I'm not going anywhere."

B.B.J.: "I paid my fare just like you did."
D.D.: "Okay. I'm still not moving for you."
B.B.J.: "Move!
D.D.: "No."
B.B.J.: "You're being racist."

D.D.: "What?"
B.B.J.: "You're being racist! You betta move or I'll stick a blade in you!"

And that's when the cops were called.

The people on the bus were so pissed that they weren't moving. I'm surprised some of them didn't get pulled off along with this trio.

Two Metro Sheriffs and a King County Sheriff arrived just for Big Booty Judy.

The officers made each of them get off the bus and walk a block down the street in different directions. No one got arrested or fined. The old woman who told on them stayed and waited for the next 124. She was mad she would be late for a dental appointment. But at least she didn't get a blade stuck in her on the bus.

Party on the A-Line

Because the 150 was nowhere to be seen in the tunnel, I decided to take the Light Rail to SeaTac and then then 180 to Kent Station.

While waiting at SeaTac Station for the 180, I saw several RapidRide A-Lines going to the Federal Way Transit Center go by. I was very tempted to get on one, but I sat still and waited for the 180.

The bus stop at SeaTac Station in the hot summer sun.

A couple of young guys were standing next to me at the shelter. While we were waiting, a young man and woman approached. They were punk rockers - South King County Style. They looked skanky. Their hair was dyed bright red, and they looked like they were trying to be tough. The woman was sporting leather short short hot pants that rode very high. Her asscheeks were hanging out the back. I'm not sure how she was walking. Not only were they very short, they were hitched up about 3 inches too high.

She didn't need a belt. Her anatomy was holding them up.

As they walked by, the guys next to me were checking her out.

Guy 1: [whispers] "Hey man. Check that out."
Guy 2: [whispers] "No. That ain't right."

baBam, baBam, baBam, she walked up to the bus stop. She also wore a Levi's jean jacket that had the bottom half cut off. It had spikes on the shoulders (which I totally had when I was in high judgment there), and she had decorated the back with fabric Sharpie. Across the top were the numbers "666." Under that, taking up the middle of the jacket and scrawled in heavy metal handwritten font were the words, "Party with the Devil, Bitch."

I'm so, so sorry I didn't get a picture of her for you all. The young guys blocked my full view of her. Plus, all the men driving by were practically wrecking trying to take their eyes off her pasty white asscheeks and would have thought I was photographing her ass. That would not have been the case.

These two got on the A-Line when it arrived. I'm sure they were on their way to a party. With the Devil. Bitch.

People who like to party with the Devil prefer the RapidRide because of its red floors and dark gray seats. It has the same color scheme as Hell.
Should be interesting to see what today's adventures bring.

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Throwing Skittles Off The 7

Rollin' down Third.

I have another story to tell you about the 7 Local. There are never a shortage of busworthy events to come from the 7. This story comes from the same contributor as the Commando on the 7 blog post, who is actually walking a fine line between contributor and correspondent.

I should preface the story by telling you a little about the contributor. She's a city girl - she has lived in the Seattle area her whole life. She is a trained boxer who is not afraid to use her skills in self defense (or perhaps otherwise) as needed. This is how she takes the 7 all the time and pretty much has no fear. I'm going to need a name for her and since she didn't pick one, I'm calling her Jane.

This particular day, a long while ago, Jane got on the bus and had to sit near the back. That's a sketchy adventure on this bus route. Naturally, the back of the bus was full of rowdy guys, some selling pot, some rapping. (This was before marijuana became legal here.) It wasn't an ideal spot for her to sit, but there were few choices. The full seat was open because no one wanted to sit next to the raucous guys in the back.

A few stops down the road, the driver picks up a man in a Skittles jacket - one of those cheesy racing jackets that almost looks like a letterman jacket. Skittles was wasted. He managed to get his drunk/high self to the back and selected the seat next to Jane. As he turned to sit, he missed the seat completely and fell flat on his ass.

"Fushin' bish!" Skittles grumbled loudly to Jane as he slowly gathered himself. He blamed her for his inability to sit down on a seat.

Skittles staggered along and sat down near Jane in a different seat, and then he started loudly slurring drunken insults at the innocent passengers around him. Jane considered punching him, but chose not to.

This went on for a short while, becoming more annoying as the bus moved along. All of a sudden the bus pulled over and both sets of doors opened.

[Cue dramatic music.]

Three of the gents from the back got up, walked over to Skittles, picked him up, carried him to the back door, and threw him out. They didn't carry him outside. They threw him out the door from the top three stairs of the aisle.

They ejected Skittles from the bus.

The doors closed with a prison-like slam. That concluded Skittles' ride on the 7 that day.

The driver walked to the back of the bus, smiling, and fistbumped the heroes who pitched the moron out.

"Do I call the cops now? Because I'm supposed to call the cops when I have to escort someone off the bus...." asked the driver.

"NOOO!" was the collective response from the guys who were dealing herbal supplements in the back. "No cops!"

The driver laughed, went back to his seat, and the bus continued on its way minus Skittles.

Jane turned around to thank one of the men seated behind her for ridding them of the nuisance. The man appeared to be in his early 50's.

"It's good this is the new me," the man said. "The old me would have had two guns and killed everyone on the bus."

Those men threw Skittles off the bus like Marshawn Lynch throws Skittles at CenturyLink Field. They went into BEAST MODE! (Photo courtesy of

Monday, July 28, 2014

Commando on the 7

I do not have photos to go with this post. You’re welcome.

It has been very hot weather in Seattle these past few days. We’re not used to the heat. Sunny days in Seattle are common in the summer, but many of us just can’t handle them. Any sustained temperatures over 85 can cause an unpredictable outcome.

A contributor told me a story about the 7 Local – Prentice Street to Rainier Beach. I personally won’t get on the 7. I’ve been on it before, and it is scary. People get stabbed on the 7. They get beat up on there. It’s historically in the top three most dangerous buses in Seattle – it’s up there with the old 358. Supposedly the A-Line RapidRide was the other one.

The contributor told me the story of how it was too hot to continue bicycling, so she and her husband decided to take the bus back home from wherever they'd gone. The bus stopped, they put their bikes on the front rack, and took their seats in the first forward facing seats. Smart move. Don’t sit in the back of the 7 unless you're looking for trouble.

A woman was seated in the sideways seats in front of them. She wasn’t old, but she wasn’t young. She didn’t look homeless or mentally impaired. She was wearing sweatpants and a cardigan.

Yes, that is an odd outfit for such a warm day. She was a special case.

Let's call her Jessie. I dislike that Jesse's Girl song and Rick Springfield. Even though Jesse was his friend's name in the song - a good friend - and his girl went unnamed, I'm still calling this bus character Jessie. Just because.

As the bus rolled forward, Jessie began squirming in her seat. She started taking off her sweatpants. Yes. Taking them off! She had a tough time with them and ended up having to put her legs in the air, moving dramatically about. Just like a snake molting. Finally, after several minutes of wrestling with the sweatpants, she was free of them.

And free of anything else below the waist.

Indeed, Jessie was butt naked, sitting on the dirty seat with her girl parts right on them. No barrier. No protection from the elements and germs. She melded with the nastiness of a million bus riders before her.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl! Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

The woman who was sitting next to her turned her body toward the front of the bus, obviously disgusted by the naked lady’s presence. The contributor and her husband were shocked.

“Oh my God! Is that woman…?”


“She must be wearing short shorts? At least underwear?”


“Hold on! Look at that. Is that her…?”

“Haha. Yeah.”

As the naked lady turned slightly, her cardigan malfunctioned and a breast fell out. She wasn’t wearing an undershirt or tank top under the sweater. She was nude underneath. And she was very clearly exposing a nipple to the passengers around her.

So, let’s do a clothing inventory: Pants? No. Underpants? No. Shirt? No. Bra? No. Cardigan? Yes. Shoes? Maybe. (We didn’t cover that part of the story.)

You’re probably wondering what Jessie was doing after she disrobed. Nothing. She was sitting there like it was nothing. It was the most natural thing to ride the bus in the buff.

No one said anything to her, including the driver. Everyone just continued on with whatever they were doing, checking her out. I'm sure most people were too shocked, but then again they were on the 7.

The contributor told me that last week a man had his hand down his pants, very obviously masturbating with no shame. Now this week she saw Jessie - more of her than she wanted to. She should become a busworthy regular correspondent for sure!

Looks like the 7 has gotten a lot more liberated since I rode it last.

The contributor and her husband got off the bus before Jessie, which made them a little sad. They wanted to see what happened when she got off the bus. Who knows, but at least that Seattlelite knows how to beat the heat!

I hope she didn't lose her transfer when she shed her pants and her dignity.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

BUSPOCALYPSE - Days Four and Five

Day Four - Testicular Torment, Day Five - This BS is over.
Buspocalypse - Day Four of the I-90 construction started with light rain, which did cause some traffic. Did anyone miss the first half of work? No. Did anyone have to hold their bladder until they feared it would burst because they couldn't get off the bus in the middle of the freeway? Maybe...but not in this blog post.
This blog series is starting to sound like a broken record.
We all anticipated traffic delays for hours.

We never thought we'd get to work.
I was hungry. Sooo hungry. And thirsty.
I didn't think I would live through it.
But we DID live. Because nothing is happening. Traffic is fine.
Day Four - A.M. Commute 
The 554 - Issaquah to Seattle - There was some traffic and a busworthy correspondent captured the travel (non)disaster digitally.

Problems ahead!

At long last, traffic. The correspondent gets unlimited bonus points for today because she captured the bicyclist behind the median.

No stop and go this morning.
The other contributors to busworthy from the Eastside were unavailable to give accounts of their trips to and from town, but I'm sure it was uneventful. I heard from some people who drive I-90 from Renton that they experienced delays, but we're not concerned with commuters. No HOV lane? No blog post.
Day Four - P.M. Commute 
Nothing busworthy happened on any of the buses I heard about except my Express bus. And really, can you consider it dramatic or even worth noting when your bus smells like balls? Well it did. A 14 ton, metal vessel of testicular torment. It certainly isn't the first (or sadly the last) time a Metro bus has smelled like balls.
Ho hum.
Day Five - A.M. & P.M. Commutes
No one is even talking about the I-90 construction any more. We're all done with it. It may continue on a few more days - definitely over the weekend because either 520 or I-90 have to be closed each weekend in the summer to screw drivers over. But no one has been impacted and no one cares any more.
As with any phenomenon that is compared to the Apocalypse in terms of massive impact, destruction, and fear - Snowpocalypse, Tupac Shakur's debut album 2Pacalypse Now, and the general use of the word Trafficopalypse -- Buspocalypse has left us all a little underwhelmed. Actually, it pleased all of the Eastside to Downtown commuters, which I suppose is a good thing.
Is it 2Soon for a 2Pac reference? Just kidding. I haven't heard this CD, and supposedly it's one of his better ones.
I suppose I'll have to look to the local downtown buses when I want some real excitement.
Thanks for reading and following the non-existent traffic horrors this week. This concludes the Buspocalypse. 

Thursday, July 24, 2014


Day Three - Torrential Downpour!
Day three of the I-90 construction started with heavy rain, which did cause some traffic along the interstate. It still did not take anyone the predicted six times the average commute time to get from the Eastside to downtown Seattle.
I'm beginning to think someone was a drama queen when they wrote the articles about the construction that appeared in the newspaper.
Although, it is a stretch to assume any construction on freeways around here would happen without some impacts.
Day Three - A.M. Commute 
The 554 - Issaquah to Seattle - Traffic started just before and after Eastgate.

The traffic backup starting at Eastgate.
The rest of the commute, through the rainy window.

The I-90 bridge, with the XXX lights illuminated, telling motorists, "No, no, and NO!"

The 214 - Issaquah to Seattle - A report of some traffic in the same areas as was experienced on the 554 above.
The 252 - Kingsgate to Downtown Seattle - Very little traffic reported.
Day Three - P.M. Commute - I didn't hear of any delays going from Seattle to the Eastside. There probably weren't any.
On my commute home to Kent, I saw the following sign that let me know I-90 would be clear:
Oh look! A rainbow, extending from the I-90 on ramp down into the Metro Ryerson Base near the Stadium District.
It's all rainbows and magic on the I-90 for sure. I-5 to Tacoma might have been a different story completely. The message below is brought to you by the SoundTransit 590 to Tacoma:
Thanks so much for clarifying what we can get in trouble for. I wasn't sure if heroin dealing is a crime. Now I know. And now you know you can text the DEA directly if those pesky neighbors keep freebasing on their porch.
The Eastside buses should post pictures of unicorns and pegasuses (pegasi?) on the side of their coaches. Their semi-hybrid giant chariots.

So, what was busworthy today? I rode on a crowded Express bus in the afternoon. There was an older lady sitting next to me. She seemed clean enough. I hope she was clean, because she put her head on my shoulder and slept for a while. I didn't mind. Other regulars were laughing, and the lady was horrified she'd made herself so comfortable when she woke up.
What will Buspocalypse bring us tomorrow? Meteors, huge traffic jams, and passengers chowing down on jalapeno chips? Who knows. That's the fun of taking the bus.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014


Day Two - Yawn.
I'm still providing daily coverage of the I-90 down-to-one-lane-road-construction supposed nightmare. The only thing is...I have no nightmare to report. No one that I've heard of who is commuting from the Eastside to Seattle has experienced any sort of delay during the morning OR evening commutes.

(Actually, there was that car accident in Issaquah yesterday afternoon, but it had nothing to do with I-90.)
My correspondents and contributors have been taking earlier buses. Maybe you've been stuck in traffic later in the day. If so, you need to send in your story so I can post it and we can all read something interesting. Send pics, too, or we'll think you're making it up and we will heckle you.
Day Two - A.M. and P.M. Commutes
Certainly all of the usual commuters that avoided any traffic nastiness yesterday heard tales of how pleasant it was and decided to chance it, right? Telecommuting only got them so far and they have to go in to the office to get more work or sit through a PowerPoint, right?
Not necessarily. Let's read about today's adventures:
The 554 - Issaquah to Seattle - Nothing. No traffic. No hassle.
The Tuesday morning commute over I-90. Hardly looks like a Buspocalypse to me - but that's the silliness in ending something with "alypse." It's all drama and rarely catastrophic.
The 214 - Issaquah to Seattle - Nothing. No traffic. No hassle.
The 252 - Kingsgate to Downtown Seattle - Nothing. No traffic. No hassle. People were asking the bus driver about why the lanes were so clear and he said all week-long construction projects are like this. They start out really smooth, and by the end of the week it's total madness. A full on goat rodeo. So stay tuned. Something might happen.
The 255 - The Briiiiickyard to Downtown Seattle - Nothing. No traffic. No hassle.
I did a Google search for "goat rodeo" and several interesting options came up. One of them is a goat herding monkey riding a dog.
Look at his little chaps!
Ever had ADHD and done a Google search? You never know what you'll find. There are a trillion random tangents at your fingertips. Here is the closest thing I could find to a goat rodeo - not because it's in a rodeo setting, but it is unpredictable and clusterfuckish...goats in a tree in Morocco:
 Take care of your goats. It's not like they grow on trees.
If I was a goat, I would totally climb trees. Not only to eat the also be a complete billy goat freak.

Here's hoping something of note happens tomorrow. Otherwise I will post more pictures of herds of goats in trees. Like anyone could get enough tree-climbing goats....