Members of the bus…Posted: September 27, 2010
Why, why, why, why, why are there such stinky people in this world? And why do they find me? Every. Single. Time.
As I was minding my own business on the No.11, minding my own business as I struggled my *weary way home with an overnight bag, handbag (size: sacklike, of course), and bag of groceries. The seat beside me was mercifully empty . . . until Stinky MacPoopstain bumbled onto the bus and plopped himself down beside me.
I have an uncanny knack for attracting the more unusual members of society. The young men who read the King James bible out loud to themselves. The old men who like to strike up conversation so they can stare at my boobs. Drunk dudes are drawn to me like metal things to a giant, powerful magnet (cartoon style, practically) . . . I once got serenaded by two drunk dudes in a pub—they were standing on the table, I was scarlet from mortification and laughter/randomly twirled around the place/accosted (nicely) in the ATM queue/made to admire a Father’s Day card (about 7 months before Father’s Day), the list could go on and on and on. And on. But I generally get such a giggle from these random events that they are kind of worth the hassle, I think
So yes, the thrust of this email is that I dislike smelly people. But that most of the time, what’s strange is wonderful. Also, here is a fairly accurate representation of my bus situation…note Non-Smelly Stick Figure’s sad face.
*Very, very weary as I spent my weekend “celebrating” the fact that my friend of 25 years (i.e. our whole lives) is leaving to go traveling. Inverted commas are in use because although we had an amazing weekend (on this note (ish), late night bars rock! We found this random place that was basically the bottom floor of a house with no lights, just candles, who served chips and bruschetta, of all things, for the drunken masses!) . . . um, where was I, oh yes— embarking on such an amazing experience must obviously be celebrated. Anyway, such a good time was had by all, but at the end of the day she’s leaving for quite a significant period of time so really, it was a little like mourning for me. But it’s fine, I was obviously stalwart and hardy and only sobbed for 25 minutes straight. And you all thought I was cold and dead inside . . .
But anyway, I doubt she’ll be reading this because of the general busyness that comes with uprooting your whole life for a massive adventure, but just in case—GOOD LUCK! I’ll miss you but I’ll live with the pain because you are going to have *such* a fabulous, wonderful experience. xxx