Bus Stop Me If You’ve Heard It Before
I was feeling lazy this morning so thought I’d get the bus into work. The 1 in 40 times that I decide to get the bus into work I can guarantee two things: (1) I will still be in my flat at about a minute before the bus is due at the stop three minutes away from my flat; (2) the bus will not be running late.
This morning, true to form, I was not at the stop at 0917 hrs when the bus was due. I wasn’t running that late and didn’t see the bus passing as I walked towards the crossroad. When I saw the stop I knew I was in luck, there was a girl stood waiting at the bus stop. And I don’t mean ‘in luck’ like I would have meant when I was a young pup and I would have thougth I was in luck because there was a girl at the bus stop (and I would have been able to stand near her and wish I was a real man who could strike a conversation up with a girl who wasn’t my mother), no – I was in luck because it meant the bus must not have been.
I shall clarify the scenario with some backstory. I live near the 99 bus route to Manchester. There is one bus an hour. ONE per HOUR. It’s not that far away from other bus routes where you just miss a bus and think the most time effective thing to do is stand around and wait for the next one. So the girl stood at a stop meant I definitely hadn’t missed the bus and would no need to walk in.
The bus still hadn’t come ten minutes later. It was nearly half past nine. I would need to start walking soon if I was going to be at work in time. But now I had stood waiting for ten minutes and I am what some people might call stubborn – i.e. I am stubborn; I behave stubbornly; I react stubbornly; I speak in a stubborn way. So, I was reluctant to admit that I had wasted ten minutes of my life because of this idiot girl tricking me. It was definitely her fault, it was not my fault in any way.
I really had to get going. Only the girl had clearly also decided that giving the bus until half past was a long enough wait and, just as I was about to give up the wait, she started walking off. Only she was walking quite slowly, constantly looking over her shoulder: expecting the bus to appear like Gandalf the White saving the day in that war in Lord of The Rings. Now if I too walked off I would look like I was stalking her and might follow her and drag her into a park and kill her. Or – more worryingly – that I was so unoriginal that I had trusted my entire journey on her decision to wait for a bus and then give up waiting for a bus and walking.
In a world where little lads are being shot for the colour of the skin (in a country so ridiculous there is serious acceptance of the theory that the hooded sweat-top is the villain of the piece and not a fucking racist biggot with a gun who shot a defenceless child) and a million other terrible things are happening it seemed silly to get bogged down in this whole thing. So I waited another five minutes until the girl walked out of eyeshot until I started my own walk. And tried to focus my rage on the erratic timekeeping of the driver of the bus rather than some innocent girl just trying to get a bus. But it definitely wasn’t my fault for being lazy, running late or assuming the bus was runnnig late because a person was basically doing what I did.
Gym Hurl Figs It
My 1-800 complaints hotline 1-800-CHEBS had millions of call after yesterday’s blog and received countless emails to my customer service email, firstname.lastname@example.org, asking what happened to the gym anecdote I promised would be coming on Monday. Well it was like this….(told in the style of a sterotypical black gangster character in a mainstream American sitcom)
It was like this blood…I aint tight with no gym brother but them boyz aint askin me to show my fucking memboship card – you feel me? This one white motherfucka is all like “Can I see your card, please?” Motherfucka please. Then he’s all like “it’s expired”. I’m all like “fuck you man, I’m on a monthly direct debit bitch, ats least that’s the package I agreed with my boy who enrolled the shit out of me.” But the honky was like “you aint, it was a 12-month contract and it expired on yo ass…last motherfucking September. You been sweating on my x-trainer without paying yo dues…”
“Shit…problem here is with your boy; I didn’t play it like no long con – said it straight, I want mothly fees – cancelling it at my discretion. That kid said nothign about expiration – and I’ll lay it down for you; I aint never looked at the card properly and seen no expiration date as you showing me now. That’s my bad – I got my hands in the air on that. But no-one be aksin me for my pass every day I in here (three times a month) and you feel this: I aint paying 6 months charges,” I said.
“That’s fine – just sort it out with the girl upstairs, tell her you’ve talked to the shift manager about it.”
Punk-ass motherfucker thinks I am going to chase paying dollar for my own sweat. For real you know I avoided that, did my work out and got out there. Brother is stealing exercise. Testify.*
*There was just no-one at the desk and I spoke to the duty manager on the way out. He just said to sort it out the next time I go back. Very helpful.