tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38758444305886181042024-02-07T06:53:19.394-05:00The 167 Short BusI ride on a bus. It's like a short bus for adults since I meet a lot of characters. Here I will chronicle 167 of the crème de la crème passengers and drivers, replete with REAL photographs, actual overheard quotes and anecdotes. It's less glamorous than anything on Bravo, but far more bitchy. Will I make it to #167 without getting caught, sued or beaten? Follow me and find out!Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-2632585388155616412009-09-10T19:10:00.006-04:002009-09-10T19:32:30.121-04:00#16: The Ladies' Man<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This inbred turd was apparently gunning for some McLovin' on his way to Jersey.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With his thick accent (read: drunken, Southern slurs), it’s hard to make out most of what he’s saying, but here’s what I could make out:</span></span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> “…some Pepto Bismol…and when I get there we’re gonna dance the freak dance…and later on we might end up doing something [inaudible]. I’m just playin. “</span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">First of all, why is it that drunk people are very LOUD? Is it to compensate for the absolute lack of clarity? While it doesn’t sound it on the video (bear in mind the bus is obnoxiously LOUD, what with all the other drunks cackling loudly), I can assure you Cotton-Eyed Joe here was so loud, <u><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7INfm99741E">Helen Keller</a></b></u> could’ve heard him.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Second, it should be noted that<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Mr. Git 'Er Done als</span>o had a tattoo of Bob Marley, which the woman standing and encouraging (read: talking) to the ladies’ man caressed and shouted approvingly. Now I love me some Bob just like anyone else, however, this guy and Bob Marley would be like Courtney Love sporting a tat of the Mensa logo. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Lastly, (and most importantly) nothing says loving like digestive-aid liquid and whatever in god’s name the “freak dance” is. I mean, he may as well have said he had <u><b><a href="http://www.weltimkino.de/medien/images/thumbnails/1374_160.jpg">anal leakage</a></b></u><b></b>…in a hot tub. </span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">151 more to go!</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwc0l5mHKKYyJH3YMq-jUB8-CNKkUXdBaEGMstXCkiMqDe-OykVjo9-GAdNgLOFkmhoBKXf83aXh0Oy5oRYRg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-56751173104299929682009-07-24T10:48:00.010-04:002009-07-24T11:35:01.410-04:00#15: Magellan by guest blogger, "Dandy Rider"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While I do ride with enough fucktards to warrant this blog, there are a few riders who I can actually get on board with. This rider is not only one of the best dressed people I have ever witnessed in my life (and I work in fashion when I'm not lambasting 167-ers), but, also, I can truly say that this rider's rapier wit is just as sharp as their style. I am, therefore, honored to introduce you to, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dandy Rider</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, our guest blogger. Hopefully, this is just the first of many Dandy blogs to come. And, without further adieu, Dandy brings you, "#15: Magellan":</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Could it be? The day where I have a seamless commute?</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m out the door on time.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s not sweltering, no monsoons. The gills I’ve developed from all the goddamned rain are finally closing up.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sure, the bus is a little late, but no one is on. Is everyone else on vacation?</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We cruise down the main thoroughfare, which usually has as many stops as Charlie Sheen has genital herpes lesions, but amazingly, there are no stops.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No one on, no one off.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">HEAVEN!</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mind you, this is the longest of the routes, the 167 local.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once in Teaneck, though, we stop to pick up three Orthodox families and all the kids.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In other words, it’s a synagogue up in there. Apparently, we ’kin do it because we are all carrying iced coffees or Coolattas (or whatever the fuck they serve there these days). So much for no drinks or food on the bus…</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even still, I'm happy.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sure, some of the kids don’t want to sit next to the other, and some asshole is having a very loud job interview on the phone, but, hey, times are tough.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe if he lands the job he’ll drive to work and get off the bus.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fuck the environment, I just want a peaceful ride to work.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My mind drifts off for a minute when I hear a collective groan from the masses.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Having not been paying attention, I look around, not immediately recognizing where I am.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hey, this isn’t the Turnpike! We can’t be going on Route 80 West! Oh, but we can.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, remember, since I was lost in bus nirvana I was not paying attention in the least, so I don’t know if there was a detour or something, but I am aware that this is NOT good.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The now very nervous driver gets off in Hackensack and seems a bit frantic and disoriented.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Trying to be helpful I loudly say, “Go into the jughandle, and back onto Route 80 East.” For those who aren’t aware of the pleasures of Garden State driving, you should understand that New Jersey was built by some dyslexic contortionist with </span></span><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Columbus"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">a bad sense of direction</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> There is no reason why a sane person should be forced to drive three miles out of the way, looking for U-Turn signs to go back, but that’s not the driver’s fault. That’s just the masochism of New Jersey civil engineers. But I digress. The driver shouts back, “I know exactly where I am,” only to proceed in the wrong direction — far, far, far away from where we needed to go, and, instead, into…a strip mall.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh, I’m dead serious! And, instead of staying on the perimeter, he wants to go joyriding up and down the lanes. I can barely get up and down those things in my SUV without having some frantic senior with macular degeneration running into me, so I’m curious to see how this douchebag is going to manage this.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Needless to say, NOT well.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are now landlocked by the dammed parking lot islands in front of Taco Fucking Bell. Yo </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">no</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> quiero Taco Bell. Yo quiero to get to fucking work sometime TODAY. Now the Hadasa bus is getting a little nervous. First, I’m willing to bet the driver's left nut that Taco Bell isn’t Kosher, and second, all those fucking Coolattas have been slurped down, and now there are a bunch of </span></span><u><a href="http:/www.popcrunch.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/madonnaap_416x450.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">little dreidels</span></span></a></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http:/www.popcrunch.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/madonnaap_416x450.jpg"></a> who are spinning, gotta pee, and want off the bus. Me too!</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After going back and forth a gazillion times and making some illegal left turns, we are finally back on the road, and we somehow miraculously manage to get to the Port Authority </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">only </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">an hour late.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I had the perfect picture of the driver looking panicked in the rearview mirror with his name placard directly above, but, instead, got a photo of a bald spot when the guy in front of me waddled into frame.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Needless to say, it was not the perfect morning commute, but there’s always tomorrow…</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">—Dandy Rider</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><u></u></span><u></u></span><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Editor's Note</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"></span></span></u>:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"> It's imperative to note that on the day that Dandy was on the Taco Bell bus, Gidget, the famous Taco Bell chihuahua died. Make of that you what you will...RIP Gidget. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-57132518171896880442009-07-20T16:05:00.010-04:002009-07-20T18:09:27.809-04:00#14: The Back Seat Driver<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I dread — </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">dread</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> — taking the last bus out of the Port Authority. It's just filled with drunks and the biggest social retards the 167 has ever chauffeured. It becomes like the 167 of the 167.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This guy is the KING of all 167-ers, the Sultan of Stupidity, the Messiah of Mental Midgets, and a testament to the fact that everyone can find someone cause this dude is actually married. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">He always, always sits in the front seat, which, you know, I get it. I love the front seat, too. But I mean somehow this dude is also magically the first guy on the bus always. It's as though the white horse of the bus pulls up, but instead of Prince Charming, it's holding his illegitimate, one-eyed, drooling, guffawing dumbass brother, whom the family locks away when anyone visits. He is self-designated as the bus host/tour guide since he's always leaning forward when people board, checking everyone out, ready with a quip, anecdote, or jab.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Guess what, Captain Asshole? Nobody asked for your opinion.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If someone asks the driver a question (and believe me, at that time of night the questions run the gamut from, "Can I carry this plant on here?" to, "OK so you don't go to Ridgewood, but would you drive me there anyway?") the Back Seat Driver answers for him and he totally gets off on knowing the answers, too. I know. I practically heard him <u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6UPR3OdroY">jizzing in his pants</a></u> in this video below. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">No shit, moron, the help person really carries a clipboard? How is it possible that you're <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">not </span>a fucking rocket scientist?</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As if that wasn't bad enough, homeboy won't shut the fuck up once the doors close, either. He proceeds to regale the bus driver with the minutiae of his sad, worthless little life — loudly. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Nobody gives a fuck.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I now know all about his son's dating problems (he can't get any) and how nobody appreciates him at work (at NASA, no doubt). Truth be told, based on what he was telling the driver, I believe his son is probably a raging, rainbow-and-unicorn-loving, Cher-adoring, meatpacking-is-more-than-a-district, closeted homosexual. But his father will either never figure this out, or he'll never admit it. He's just convinced his art-loving, Broadway-afficionado of a son is just too "shy" to meet girls.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It makes me want to yell at him, "<u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://www.celebritycowboy.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/richard-simmons-underwear.png"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">RICHARD SIMMONS</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></u> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">HAS HIT MORE VAJAY THAN YOUR SON!"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I really hate people who can see, but are blind. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">153 more to go!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwiLFXvlCo1U4ZaDDlXjat2WYGChkMOPOzYpa6G2DMGCixfgcIJyoRmQHteV6IoTD1q_HLF4X5Tmi3_akCD1w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-34185340876508283812009-07-13T13:08:00.016-04:002009-07-16T14:47:22.211-04:00#13: Israel Kamakawhydidthisparentsdothistohim?<div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ltAGuuru7Q"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><u>Somewhere over the rainbow</u></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, Israel never got to meet his doppelgänger:</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXcH5Eo53m_KUwBUSQv8CYdnlU-9PL0MVDLgp9kEjrhfgBvCbuuttXR_HKQsUzjJDrc0hifoEdzgPzfa5ZxmbTk9hUoVK3KR4BLoWcTtmuK7bOLOsgBOue6Et0i1crTzUy6_RMflIdFg3/s1600-h/israel.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXcH5Eo53m_KUwBUSQv8CYdnlU-9PL0MVDLgp9kEjrhfgBvCbuuttXR_HKQsUzjJDrc0hifoEdzgPzfa5ZxmbTk9hUoVK3KR4BLoWcTtmuK7bOLOsgBOue6Et0i1crTzUy6_RMflIdFg3/s200/israel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359129345339584594" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAShtrSmcNVWXeEywq_M-XHe_4wJhSygLwI0FmIQLvOnoHcdPcFAixn6Uuc96mgfVNylrU31RMyBiU2Y56qeeLmSP7OCLs325IO9Jn54M81qGAwKVt7CG7R2NnO9KOdflUDV2VgSq_yCJT/s1600-h/bruddaiz2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAShtrSmcNVWXeEywq_M-XHe_4wJhSygLwI0FmIQLvOnoHcdPcFAixn6Uuc96mgfVNylrU31RMyBiU2Y56qeeLmSP7OCLs325IO9Jn54M81qGAwKVt7CG7R2NnO9KOdflUDV2VgSq_yCJT/s200/bruddaiz2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359129221352931762" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuENZCsKATmu6kV3HiF4HuMIm8o9-fJMfwFUigft-WaaADlYf8FS88i8z29uTGRDxnMCC_KJ4CNU-Zqoo6W4QNx5ViYGB4TBk64o3WFo1NxFwfHXpg5D3CypGCBv1m-kxdq-Qs7Yxec3GM/s1600-h/bruddaiz2.jpg"><br /></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-15550276306369174552009-07-06T15:42:00.006-04:002009-07-06T17:09:49.741-04:00#12: Yo Mama<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84Ei4OgnLA-2feyEG-lP8SQd65TJq-EQDgU6M77h49_cvKGHZMrJcPaZxNhX9jxracxbMsQNPB344hp0pA1Wx-eZPA6mRXNNO0qC8PN1X6JDC8rlgxbTK4JUxNFToWKYF3aPBLKxmTCn1/s1600-h/oldslut.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84Ei4OgnLA-2feyEG-lP8SQd65TJq-EQDgU6M77h49_cvKGHZMrJcPaZxNhX9jxracxbMsQNPB344hp0pA1Wx-eZPA6mRXNNO0qC8PN1X6JDC8rlgxbTK4JUxNFToWKYF3aPBLKxmTCn1/s320/oldslut.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355437674187542290" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was on the last bus out of the Port Authority in the wee hours of Saturday morning when I rubbed my bleary eyes raw in order to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This chicken fried Charo squeezed onto the bus with her daughter (the pubescent one standing and talking on the cell), and they proceeded to CliffsNotes their magical, whore-iffic evening together.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I would’ve paid more attention to what they were saying, but I was too hypnotized by the blue light hanging between the mother’s saggy breasts, which were threatening to poke out the eye of the dude sitting next to me. He wouldn’t have minded, though. He was so loaded he probably wouldn't have even noticed if one smacked him upside his bald head.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know it must have looked like I was trying to burn a hole in her chest, but given the woman’s age I could've sworn that was Heart of the Ocean dangling between her tube socks filled with bowling balls. It wasn't. I was so disappointed when I [finally] made out the Coors Light logo on the pendant, but then it naturally begged the question as to how many times the </span></span><strike><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">grandmother</span></span></strike><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> mother had heard, "I'd like to taste your Rockies."</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was about to inquire that very question (what? I have a healthy curiosity) when Dina and Lindsay rang the bell for their stop. I then promptly left </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><u></u></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><u></u></span></span><u><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/italy/8020588/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my mother</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"></span></span></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> a voicemail berating her for not exposing herself and accompanying <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">me</span> out to clubs wearing remnant curtain fabric from the Persians' dumpsters and a Coors Light light-up necklace atop her buh-bies. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sheesh. We'll see what Mother's Day gift I get her next year.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">155 to go</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">!</span></span></p><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <!--EndFragment-->Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-85163277568283835792009-07-02T13:04:00.007-04:002009-07-03T17:37:26.038-04:00BONUS BLOG: The Crazy, Retarded, Racist Cross-Eyed Woman Returns!<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">Let it be said that every single 167 Short Bus blog entry is reported accurately and without exaggeration. They are all wonderfully freakish situations that happen entirely on their own, without any prompting from myself. That said, there are moments (as I am human after all) where I can't help but nudge a little incident, but let me assure you that it is all for the benefit of you, my good reader.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">This is one of those instances:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I get on the bus yesterday. I am literally the last one on. I have to sit aaaaalll the way in the back. When we get to the first stop, the bus clears out so I move up because Rosa Parks was the shit and paved the way for me to be able to do so. Anyway, after I settle into a seat near the front of the bus, I’m enjoying a relatively quiet ride when I hear, “PUT THE ARM DOWN!” followed by a </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">thwack</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">! I look in the direction of the commotion only to see…</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">…<u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://167shortbus.blogspot.com/2009/05/passenger-3-crazy-retarded-racist-cross.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">CRAZY, RETARDED, RACIST CROSS-EYED WOMAN</span></span></a></u><a href="http://167shortbus.blogspot.com/2009/05/passenger-3-crazy-retarded-racist-cross.html"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">! (click hyperlink for reference)</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yes, she was sitting in the front row in the window seat. She apparently did NOT like it when the person who was sitting next to her (on the aisle) got up without putting the arm rest down. Which arm rest, you ask? Was she upset that the one </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">between them</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> remained in an upright position? No. No, folks, the Crazy, Retarded, Racist Cross-Eyed Woman was actually pissed that the guy who had been sitting next to her (yes, he was black) put </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">his</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> arm rest up — yes, the one on the aisle, and, therefore, furthest away from CRRCE Woman — and didn’t put it down.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUwjG84PCUo"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Cuckoo! Cuckoo!</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></u> (0:08 in)</o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is what <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I</span> would call a golden opportunity. ::big shit-eating grin::</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I move up to the seat next her. Right away, I put my arm rest up. I get the video camera on my phone ready.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">::big shit-eating grin::</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I ring the bell to get off at my stop. I stand up. My ass is not even entirely off the seat when the cracktard that she is, reaches over and slams the arm rest down, all while giving me the cross-eyed stink eye — which, as you can imagine, is very <u><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNv6BlV6RXdOa0iZqxY84Cw9hdF2htVdsAkkY9rvOiDgaiRv21HsTdB0RDNILKGyc1ldDEZFBlmLzwvYIIrrBruQ2l5YyvA8DYMIBsY-T4Zd8IhxBd0ye9bMs4mYpRkQob3d8ILKvSvSh6/s320/cross+eyed+monkey.JPG">attractive</a></u>.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Unfortunately, I didn’t get capture any of her expression, but you can clearly see her arm slamming.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What I want to know is: how can the cross-eyed bitch even </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">see</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> that the arm rest is up? Her peripheral </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">has </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">to suck, right? </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I may be going to hell, but she's coming with me.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzqh7L8C38razjogu-tuIlKil0c4FxS2WTGUdo1ultqqn4LFUJiPZ2NqNkp6eLoAn1IHSevOshfebViP2Vr-A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-48907695778514454612009-07-01T17:15:00.003-04:002009-07-01T18:02:19.357-04:00#11: Jerky Boy<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Watch the video below. Note how many times you hear the squeaky sound of the pedal. Gives new meaning to pedal to the metal, doesn’t it?</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “So what? The dude rode his brakes a little. Maybe he was sitting in traffic and didn’t want to speed up, slow down, speed up…”</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The sound you hear over and over again in the video? That’s the sound of the GAS pedal, my friends. Do you know what happens when you depress the gas </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">all the way</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, take your foot of the gas </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">entirely </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and then depress the gas pedal again sequentially like that? </span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <u></span></span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-tEUFpq3Hk"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The result is a ride akin to sitting on of those mechanical rocket or pony rides for children that are usually outside of supermarkets</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </u>.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <u></span></span><a href="http://www.famous-people-search.com/john_mayer/john_mayer_picture/john_mayer_006.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Super jerky</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></u>.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know homeboy is probably used to driving a rickshaw or something, but seriously, the gas pedal has a lot of room in between "all the way to the floor" and "completely off the gas." If you want a smooth ride, all you have to do is ease your foot halfway up and idle somewhere in the middle. Of course, this is all assuming you can </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">reach</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> the pedal in the first place, which I believe was part of his problem. Because he couldn't entirely reach the gas, he had to essentially "jab" at the gas pedal, resulting in a ride that feels like you're getting rammed in the ass by a <u></span></span><a href="http://www.betterthanfudge.com/img/rosie.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">nine-ton behemoth</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</u> </span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It just made me wonder what else he likes to poke at in a less than appealing way...<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">156 more to go!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <!--EndFragment--> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-iSZ6BX_zCCKklw0wGGt50AZrAIBuUUmTFGcJJ-BBjFIAlFm7LR2GEY-t5kCFlfbw4cgR4K3gARnEvQuQ6g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-76288406403066815542009-06-16T16:12:00.008-04:002009-06-16T17:18:17.424-04:00#9 and #10: Your Parents<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsv042UStKKHNeVt4LSWXOvRNv_7Ckfb2O__SJzw0y2RB0wOQbCF3BQ-vWXu0wHRCBx3XswT3ikH12T4oOeY0EI2XOUVHrQJr2eCvSW2oxLeVYJ3MXLWPdQNaZh5UXgh4o6FS_DAk_xkhL/s1600-h/loveycouple.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsv042UStKKHNeVt4LSWXOvRNv_7Ckfb2O__SJzw0y2RB0wOQbCF3BQ-vWXu0wHRCBx3XswT3ikH12T4oOeY0EI2XOUVHrQJr2eCvSW2oxLeVYJ3MXLWPdQNaZh5UXgh4o6FS_DAk_xkhL/s320/loveycouple.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348026014265350050" /><br /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dear Baby X,</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I saw you when you were just a glint in your father’s fly.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It was mid June, late on a muggy spring night. I was waiting for my bus at the Port Authority. I was bored and, there, across the way, I saw them: your parents. They were young, reckless, and obviously inebriated. I was impressed by their perseverance in remaining upright. In some ways…your father more than your mother…</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Your father had your mother pinned against the wall. I never knew that the human tongue could travel that far down another’s esophagus. Perhaps this is a talent you will possess as well. One can only hope.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Your mother was groping at your dad’s khakis, which seemed to get tighter the more they made out. It’s a wonder of science that his pants didn’t split. See what a miracle you were conceived from?</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Other people were watching, but trying to look like they </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">weren’t</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> watching. Your parents can sure put on quite a show! They could’ve charged admission.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In approximately nine months (or, if your mom doesn't lay off the booze, perhaps sooner), your parents will meet up again, each with their respective new boos in order to <strike>curse</strike> witness your entry into the world. Here's hoping that all of your parts are where they should be and that you don't have to ride a short bus for the rest of your life. That last sentence will make more sense to you once you learn about <u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://pimpmyspacecodes.net/Images/Female_Celebrities/Teri_Hatcher/images/Teri_Hatcher_0746.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">birth defects</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></u> in school...</o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So, Baby X, I just wanted to present you with a picture of your moment of conception. Not many people get to see this. If not for your parents' skankiness, I would not be able to give you this precious, precious gift.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Sincerely,</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A fellow passenger on the 167</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">P.S. 157 more to go!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">**Illustration (arrow) done by Ryan Haase. Thanks Ryan!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--></div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-41305440150536270732009-06-15T11:28:00.004-04:002009-06-15T11:37:37.478-04:00#8: It's Pat<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">No, really! </span><u><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pat_(Saturday_Night_Live)"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It</span></a></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> drives my bus:</span></span><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxswJFeDEUMXzRQxGaO9dqaWpJ37xTsaRgQjdgG5-3SudFUBpcR5FuVl9wOCSFcZyOzPuPhiAXaPqcfWZP6j0GOJdQ21LaaoPNmrO71DPFxoXHt4kZiXZ27c-A0SiDpp43xJbkuvFh-n-/s1600-h/it'spat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxswJFeDEUMXzRQxGaO9dqaWpJ37xTsaRgQjdgG5-3SudFUBpcR5FuVl9wOCSFcZyOzPuPhiAXaPqcfWZP6j0GOJdQ21LaaoPNmrO71DPFxoXHt4kZiXZ27c-A0SiDpp43xJbkuvFh-n-/s320/it'spat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347576880590294786" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxswJFeDEUMXzRQxGaO9dqaWpJ37xTsaRgQjdgG5-3SudFUBpcR5FuVl9wOCSFcZyOzPuPhiAXaPqcfWZP6j0GOJdQ21LaaoPNmrO71DPFxoXHt4kZiXZ27c-A0SiDpp43xJbkuvFh-n-/s1600-h/it'spat.jpg"><br /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></div></div></div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-61345978256082127652009-06-12T17:48:00.010-04:002009-06-15T11:07:06.543-04:00#7: Who You Calling "Bitch"?<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You know your day is going to suck when you get called a bitch before 9 AM.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So this morning, I’m loving life cause, well, it’s Friday and I got fun plans later tonight. I hop aboard the short bus without a care in the world.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I plop down next to this woman whom I’ve noticed before largely because when she listens to her music it resembles the onset of Parkinson’s: little tics here and there. She doesn’t full-on bop, mind you, no, she does one head nod every 20 seconds or so. It’s unnerving.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All of a sudden I hear Jamie Foxx’s whiny scream:</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“She giiiiiive me mooooney!”</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What the—?</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“When I’m in neeeed!”</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I turn to my left. Yes, the woman is full-on listening to her music and I can hear EXACTLY what she’s listening to.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Go ’head girl, go ’head get down!” Kanye West’s voice is crystal clear.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So I get up and move across the aisle to avoid listening. I mean, I love Kanye, but I’m not trying to hear him via earbuds the size of a </span></span><u><a href="http://pub.tv2.no/multimedia/na/archive/00176/verne-troyer1_176720m.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">midget’s nipples</span></span></a></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> when they’re not in MY ears.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All of a sudden I realize that you can actually hear every song this woman is listening to. And by now, I’ve moved across the aisle so there’s an aisle AND a seat between us. And the bus is LOUD. I mean between the shocks, the poor insulation and the groaning massive engine, it’s like being stuck in a box with Monica Seles and Chynna scisorring (let me apologize now for that mental image).</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So I lean across the aisle and I say (very politely), “Excuse me, would you mind turning your music down?”</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She just stares at me blankly. I take that to mean, "yes."</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Two minutes later:</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Iiiii’m every woman! It’s aaaall in meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ARE. YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME?!?!?</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Now, don’t get it twisted. I’m down with Whitney. It sure as fuck is all “in her” and then some (except when she’s in rehab), but for the love of god, I don’t want to hear her like that.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Hasn't she been through enough?</span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So again, I stretch across the aisle, “Uh could you turn it down again?”</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The woman looks over at me, “You can hear THAT?!?” with an attitude.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Yeah, you’re listening to Whitney Houston’s, ‘I’m Every Woman’,” I reply.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Then, it was like a light switch went off in her Tabasco and crack addled brain,</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Whatever,” she snapped, “Whatever. Shut up, you annoying bitch.”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><u><a href="http://www.southparkstudios.com/clips/154019"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Ohhhhh HELLLLL NO. No, she DIH-NT (watch 00:18 seconds in)</span></span></a></u></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“I’M an annoying bitch? Me?!? YOU’RE the one with her music loud enough for a deaf person to hear,” I shouted at her.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Just cause you’re miserable and don’t wanna go to work doesn’t mean you have to bother me,” she said. Yes, she actually word vomited that shit.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Who said I was miserable? And what the fuck does that have to do with turning your damn music—“ And then I stopped. I realized the woman was clearly </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">not</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> playing a full deck of cards and, instead, I just started laughing.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I learned a while ago that when faced with crazy, act crazy.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She didn’t really know what to say to my laughing so she actually didn’t say anything in response (score one for me), but she did proceed to listen to some of the worst shit ever produced at top volume. I mean the bus driver was looking over at me as if to say, <u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dottielou/435142526/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“What the fuck?”</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></u></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Because I really am the spawn of Satan with a death wish, every so often I would look over at her and when she looked at me, I’d just start laughing.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">When we pulled into the Port Authority, I stood up in preparation for getting off the bus. I looked over at her. I smiled — huge. Then I waved. She looked perplexed. Mid-wave my hand gesture turned from the universal sign for hello to the universal sign for “Fuck you.” Yes, I gave the thing that crawled out of Paris Hilton’s cooch, the middle finger.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I reeaaaaaaaaaally don’t like being called a bitch — especially before coffee.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“FUCK YOU!” She yelled, and then for good measure added, “BITCH!” while I proceeded to laugh, even taking time to say, “Have a great weekend” to the bus driver, who (along with the rest of the bus) </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">totally</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> heard the talking Culo explode.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You see, folks, take notes. The beauty of this scenario was that no one on the bus </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">heard</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> me say anything. And, since they’re all focusing on getting their shit together in preparation for getting off the bus, they didn’t </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">see</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> me give her the finger, either.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So to everyone else, she just looked <u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dFBdeRpEBw"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">REALLY FUCKING INSANE</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></u>.</o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’m not gonna lie. My ass cheeks were tightly clenched as I wound my way through the Port Authority because I was not entirely sure she wouldn’t catch up to me and beat me. </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mental note to self: Make shank this weekend</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. </span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But I did not run. I didn’t even walk quickly. One might even say I sauntered. And I never looked back. Not once.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But I’m </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">totally</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> taking a different bus on Monday.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">7 down, 160 more to go!</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">NOTE: Turn the volume all the way up and you can slightly make out the music. Remember, the bus is loud, and my phone is not some state-of-the-art recording device so the fact that you can make out anything, should tell you how loud she was.</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxHauA2TMgvrPvqBLYuVD1wnBR6bRcEbfMdVqYAOAHxygn2XXc0117OYx6ix-9SkQQ8JTykJUbHYvpJ7suH_A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-85705492754677773132009-06-04T17:07:00.007-04:002009-06-04T17:29:33.734-04:00#6: Hooked on Phonics<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dWUYn4_S3P7bVcD3CAXp56q7YU5_15NhDsypPhGGMd5Sufeo0cSDr0VSlDpXcPqEf1UN7MlfUIV12sEX7nzNUeMEhVeEoEJZj0_tTSTDjCIZfy5KOAUVgqLvJoMrmIz8UibZ5Lll05_S/s1600-h/driver2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dWUYn4_S3P7bVcD3CAXp56q7YU5_15NhDsypPhGGMd5Sufeo0cSDr0VSlDpXcPqEf1UN7MlfUIV12sEX7nzNUeMEhVeEoEJZj0_tTSTDjCIZfy5KOAUVgqLvJoMrmIz8UibZ5Lll05_S/s320/driver2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343583416083559122" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’ve heard a lot of drivers say a lot of crazy shit: from the ones who’ve asked me if I’m French (because, yes, I look like <u><a href="http://www.lahiguera.net/cinemania/actores/gerard_depardieu/fotos/4318/gerard_depardieu.jpg">this</a></u>) to those who actually employ the bus intercom system to yell at a car in front of them:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“YOU! IN THE DODGE! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT! I HAVE A TOOTHPICK FOR A DICK AND YELLING INTO AN INTERCOM LIKE THE EPIC DOUCHE THAT I AM IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN GET OFF!”</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Um, OK, I made up last sentence, but the first part is totally accurate and </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">has </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">happened. Twice.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But I digress. For the most part, though, drivers don’t do much except for </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">drive</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> the bus. I mean they are somewhat responsible for the lives of 50+ assholes, and if they fuck up their admittedly stressful, yet relatively simple job, well…that’s <u><a href="http://static.tvguide.com/MediaBin/Content/090518/News/Todays_News_Our_Take/1_mon/090518cynthia1.jpg">a lot of shit to explain</a></u>.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So imagine my surprise when Hooked on Phonics started reading while the bus was </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">in motion</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. In my delusional mind he was reading to further his career — material like the “How to Make Change” or (my personal favorite) “How to Read a Bus Schedule…and Share the Information” pamphlets that I’m sure the union only offers their most promising drivers (aka The Few. The Lame. The NJ Transit Bus Drivers.) But, in truth, he must’ve been perusing something scintillating like an article on new developments in toilet paper, which is </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">obviously</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> far more important than…watching the road.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I wanted to say to him, “Can I get you anything else, perhaps? A cocktail? A snack? Pillow? Or how about…Perez Hilton’s mouth? Cause you’re gonna need it for the <u><a href="http://www.wchstv.com/synd_prog/judy/judy2a.jpg">huge cock of justice</a></u> that I’m going to make you blow after we get into an accident."</span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';">161 more to go!</span><br /></p> <!--EndFragment-->Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-15837061654493780472009-06-01T12:44:00.001-04:002009-06-04T17:16:00.659-04:00#5: Your Driving is Making Me Ill<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgks1yjtm5nQsRG1yYzV9MW0Nbe4k4lfp5VdKooHPTGl4ARUAcughPvN2EalW_mH_0JArjSwoLk1qeOMwivtICXeRLCpH2bvxl9Af6UNHbL14ZFTPI8Z0LUeW5PDUwp5usCBQuM7byWK5/s1600-h/man'slap.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgks1yjtm5nQsRG1yYzV9MW0Nbe4k4lfp5VdKooHPTGl4ARUAcughPvN2EalW_mH_0JArjSwoLk1qeOMwivtICXeRLCpH2bvxl9Af6UNHbL14ZFTPI8Z0LUeW5PDUwp5usCBQuM7byWK5/s200/man'slap.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342409028792454818" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Man, talk about starting a Monday off on the right foot! We were just coming out of the tunnel and all of a sudden I felt this </span></span><u><a href="http://www.rocklahoma2008.com/images/vinceneil_jpg/VinceNeil-IMG_1062.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Vince Neil-like presence hovering above me, swaying</span></span></a></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><a href="http://www.rocklahoma2008.com/images/vinceneil_jpg/VinceNeil-IMG_1062.JPG"></a> and saying she felt “awful" (video below). I was afraid that I was going to </span></span><u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrvMTv_r8sA"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">lose my shit</span></span></a></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> if this woman vomited on me as I was envisioning this woman’s head turning and spewing on me because she was standing right above me and there was nowhere for me to go. I wasn’t going to sit in the dude’s lap* (pic above) sitting next to me. And I was in the front seat of the bus. I was completely stuck in her projectile cross hairs.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">While visions of puke danced in my head, the woman was literally unable to stand any longer and thankfully she plopped down on the stairs. The bus driver was mumbling something inaudible, while keeping one eye on the road and one eye on the woman.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">When we arrived at the Port Authority the woman stumbled off the bus, somehow managed to walk onto the escalator, and then sat down on the floor when she got off. I asked her if she wanted me to get help. She nodded. I ran and grabbed this dude I always see standing guard. I literally yelled, “Hey! I need your help. There’s a woman who is ill!” He came to look at her and said he would get the police. I was standing there with her until she told me she was OK, that she could wait by herself, but she thanked me.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I hope she's feeling better, and am grateful I arrived spewless to work. #5 down, 162 left!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">*Originally, my blog for today was going to be on the tightness of this guy’s pants, hence the reason I took a picture. He may reappear at a later juncture, especially because I still haven’t gone <u><a href="http://www.nancydrewsleuth.com/ndcluesforlife.jpg">Nancy Drew</a></u><a href="http://www.nancydrewsleuth.com/ndcluesforlife.jpg"></a> and solved "The Mystery of How This Man Sits Down." But, seriously, folks, if you had the choice between getting exorcised on, or climbing into this, which would you choose?</span></span></p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwnCFQb2LBLNk6fPa13LUfT7MPIxHLKmVhBqZwN1uw2eKZMxvfJviO7PFEhrYjBaEU1A1IoR4uCl18jI-F98g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-87362508656301879782009-05-29T12:23:00.001-04:002009-06-04T17:16:14.870-04:00#4: The Whiner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EKwIAtudl9K1CRcY860tPU5SJEvubJPyz0jcIwO5Sux4sL2P9lL-nyARE3ID5FbgEC5H_NDuU65FH0P9TIgLuTIgksoOHRn5gCcrrVWgyOk2me-VFv1llH6Vx3BSU2CIiVXeIErwg6C8/s1600-h/thewhiner.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EKwIAtudl9K1CRcY860tPU5SJEvubJPyz0jcIwO5Sux4sL2P9lL-nyARE3ID5FbgEC5H_NDuU65FH0P9TIgLuTIgksoOHRn5gCcrrVWgyOk2me-VFv1llH6Vx3BSU2CIiVXeIErwg6C8/s320/thewhiner.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341282762461810706" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Take road rage, remove the violence, add both the volume and pitch of a tortured cat and pour it into a chalupa and you’ll get...The Whiner.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“AAAY! Why doesn’t she move! Doesn’t she know she’s blockeeng all thees boo-sehs?” The Whiner moaned loud enough for the entire bus to hear because the bus lane had slowed to a crawl and the bus in the front was moving slower than it took <u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOu-QkmInKc&feature=PlayList&p=A12210E2FF931110&index=0">Kevin Federline to learn how to read </a></u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOu-QkmInKc&feature=PlayList&p=A12210E2FF931110&index=0"></a>.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Before we reached the Port Authority she looked at me and held up two fingers in my face and said, “Two days! Two days now we’ve had thees cone-geeestion!” I stared at her blankly. First, I had to translate her words in my head, and second, I was distracted by her visible ability to count.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She also actually got up and asked the driver if she could be dropped off sooner than the Port Authority. Uh…after the tunnel are just <u><a href="http://www.starmagazine.com/media/originals/LindsayLohan_Skinny_April09.jpg">thin</a> </u>ramps bordering five Pissed-Off-I-Just-Sat-In-Tunnel-Traffic lanes and then the Port Authority. I guess she wanted to be let off on the ramp so she could play leap frog or something?</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But my own personal favorite signature move of The Whiner is when she bitches about the driver’s driving —loud enough (purposely, natch) so he or she can hear.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“AAAY! Thees one goes </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">SOOO</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> slow! We are naaaayver going to get there! We don’t have aaaaalll day, zhu know what I’m saying?! AAAAY!” Then she nudges me and nods over at the driver, who is either deaf or doesn’t give a shit. Much like myself.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">163 more to go!</span></span></p>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-57548913405416352402009-05-28T14:28:00.001-04:002009-06-04T17:16:36.659-04:00#3: Crazy, Retarded, Racist Cross-Eyed Woman<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNVO4mjI6XmVmznSIGpCNXB5XTmKrIi-Wz0yZBqjB8ludj97Xxj_l3091ka6u3h4t9Ie8Y8k-yU9MJ3-J2Efa5cl4lcBgHDJSCoNi-2z4Jq1oUEfeR4R5XImVFtZSI7N83oXr88xrOGvm/s1600-h/crosseyedwoman.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNVO4mjI6XmVmznSIGpCNXB5XTmKrIi-Wz0yZBqjB8ludj97Xxj_l3091ka6u3h4t9Ie8Y8k-yU9MJ3-J2Efa5cl4lcBgHDJSCoNi-2z4Jq1oUEfeR4R5XImVFtZSI7N83oXr88xrOGvm/s320/crosseyedwoman.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340948792667628514" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Actual quote(s) overheard: </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"My gums hurt."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"I like shrimp. My husband got me into it. Except I don't like shrimp cocktail. Uncooked shrimp is disgusting."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Turn the heat down! I've asked you a hundred times already! Why don't you go back to wherever you came from!"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm willing to bet the farm that this woman is <u><a href="http://www.paulaabdul.com/photo/all/paula_abdul-18#photo">legally mentally retarded</a><a href="http://www.paulaabdul.com/photo/all/paula_abdul-19#photo"> </a></u><a href="http://www.paulaabdul.com/photo/all/paula_abdul-19#photo"></a>in some ways, though (amazingly) fully functional. She's even apparently married, since every other sentence mentions this husband, though, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that her "husband" is actually just another word for her <u><a href="http://www.anneheche.com/imagegallery.asp">imaginary friend </a></u><a href="http://www.anneheche.com/imagegallery.asp"></a>. She dresses as though she's blind, but really, she's merely cross-eyed. I would feel bad for her and I would be on my way to hell, save for the fact that she's a racist. One time she threw a bona fide shit fit at the bus driver and yelled at him to go back to "wherever he came from" because the bus wasn't cooling down fast enough to her liking. I've also seen her full-on try and block someone of a darker complexion from sitting next to her. She literally threw her arm across the seat and everything. Either he was a little short bus himself or he just didn't give a shit about the crazy, retarded, racist cross-eyed woman and just sat his brown ass down. She moved her arm just in time. The cherry on top? She sounds like she's drunk: loud as hell, slurred and painfully labored pronunciation of each word. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">#3 down, 164 more to go!</span></div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-9334673140767392112009-05-28T14:10:00.001-04:002009-06-04T17:16:55.195-04:00#2: Suspicious Eyes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaaODX0GA0LbU2aKxQCjveHjZcdkDYXHRFv2syJtKgIU4vt55fEWcSqhyphenhyphenmo45CQuQWxKGIZU8xKuo69wytluANO9zVQlIpNUvPdJWFH2mlkBt-D-mWQFjsLwkRDQlYlaGLAfJZRghQ0iDH/s1600-h/manonbus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaaODX0GA0LbU2aKxQCjveHjZcdkDYXHRFv2syJtKgIU4vt55fEWcSqhyphenhyphenmo45CQuQWxKGIZU8xKuo69wytluANO9zVQlIpNUvPdJWFH2mlkBt-D-mWQFjsLwkRDQlYlaGLAfJZRghQ0iDH/s320/manonbus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340940453665140546" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This guy didn't say a word, just sat there looking cool and calm with his sunglasses. Until we entered the <u><a href="http://www.seaswirlofmystic.com/images/ss_longdog3.jpg">Tommy Lee</a></u> of NYC tunnels (Lincoln) and he pulled out his video camera. For those who don't know it's pretty fuckin dark in there. One could (hypothetically) conceive a child in there and no one would be the wiser. Quietly, he took his video camera out of his bag and got it ready by flipping the screen out and powering it up. Then he waited until we passed one of those double-decker red sightseeing <u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://www.grayline.com/Grayline/destinations/us/newyork.go"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">buses</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></u> and he filmed them as we passed. He did this one more time before we got pooped out on the other side. <br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I called the Port Authority Suspicious Activity line. They were </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">supposed</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> to be sending a detective to look at the photo I took. Oh well. It's not like NYC has reason to be worried about tour bus bombings.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Second one down, 165 more to go!</span></div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3875844430588618104.post-15672753306254092722009-05-28T13:26:00.002-04:002009-06-04T17:17:12.876-04:00#1: Smelly Finger Sniffer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujkvMyyG8sOP3_gC13-Jk6mCgM40ct1tFBqQ3D6ZNJ-nXzMU7IhPZxInSjI6AhEqUo0Q3O8QCvC0J_O4B7-IFxiVI2r2_gppQ2NeWDx3CcvwaYy1UHhKi5LKe1-7cywHfwRFoVsKN-3bO/s1600-h/4299_1163424085801_1233817822_30464570_2351142_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujkvMyyG8sOP3_gC13-Jk6mCgM40ct1tFBqQ3D6ZNJ-nXzMU7IhPZxInSjI6AhEqUo0Q3O8QCvC0J_O4B7-IFxiVI2r2_gppQ2NeWDx3CcvwaYy1UHhKi5LKe1-7cywHfwRFoVsKN-3bO/s320/4299_1163424085801_1233817822_30464570_2351142_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340929906667652226" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Actual quote overheard from Passenger #1 (aka Jacked <u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RyQWoVWPizg">Barbra Streisand</a></u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RyQWoVWPizg"></a>) while she was word vomiting into her cell:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“I went to <u><a href="http://www.heartlandbrewery.com/">Hahtland Brewery</a></u> tonight with da girlzzz now my fingers smell. Yes, they smell like finger foods!”</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: italic; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And then she... </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">actually</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> smelled her fingers.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Read the full, horrific story <u></u></span><u></u></span><u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=77889064252"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">here</span></span></a></u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=77889064252"></a></span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=77889064252"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px;font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px;font-family:'lucida grande';">1 down, 166 more to go!</span></div>Das Bushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010164674844506362noreply@blogger.com0