#12: Yo Mama

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.

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.

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.

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 grandmother mother had heard, "I'd like to taste your Rockies."

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 my mother a voicemail berating her for not exposing herself and accompanying me out to clubs wearing remnant curtain fabric from the Persians' dumpsters and a Coors Light light-up necklace atop her buh-bies. 

Sheesh. We'll see what Mother's Day gift I get her next year.

155 to go!

BONUS BLOG: The Crazy, Retarded, Racist Cross-Eyed Woman Returns!

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.

This is one of those instances:

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 thwack! I look in the direction of the commotion only to see…

…CRAZY, RETARDED, RACIST CROSS-EYED WOMAN! (click hyperlink for reference)

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 between them 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 his arm rest up — yes, the one on the aisle, and, therefore, furthest away from CRRCE Woman — and didn’t put it down.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo! (0:08 in)

This is what I would call a golden opportunity. ::big shit-eating grin::

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.

::big shit-eating grin::

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 attractive.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get capture any of her expression, but you can clearly see her arm slamming.

What I want to know is: how can the cross-eyed bitch even see that the arm rest is up? Her peripheral has to suck, right?

I may be going to hell, but she's coming with me.

#11: Jerky Boy

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?

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…”

No.

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 all the way, take your foot of the gas entirely and then depress the gas pedal again sequentially like that?  The result is a ride akin to sitting on of those mechanical rocket or pony rides for children that are usually outside of supermarkets . Super jerky.

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 reach 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 nine-ton behemoth. 

It just made me wonder what else he likes to poke at in a less than appealing way...

156 more to go!