If Sunday is a dirty trick then Monday is a cold shower. Its just this ultimate let down of a day. The only thing saving me from complete destruction is that today, is my last work day before my holidays! I took the rest of the week off to go on an adventure and so instead of being at work sitting in the cubicle where happiness goes to die I will be out exploring the world.
I need to build up a bit of a back log of entries so I can keep my streak going of not missing a day. Probably will just be sad drawings with little notes.
Anyways, today I want to discuss the bus. In particular, I would like to discuss the bus I take in the mornings.
My bus is a spectrum of crazy. From the drivers to the riders this bus is a collection of strange people.
I get to start almost everyday waiting to get onto my bus while a creepy witch lady hobbles off mumbling some evil curse on me. It is no wonder I get sick all the time and why I haven't won the lottery... I am cursed on a daily basis. Then, I say good morning to the bus driver who proceeds to glare angrily at me until I go sit down. I go sit in my spot at the back usually on the same side unless the lady who looks like a female robot version of the old leader of North Korea who proceeds to twitch about and then sits on the outside seat. There are many things that piss me off, I am a generally cranky person, however to sit on the outside seat of a bus and refuse to move even once it fills is a particularly low level of assery. Once I am sitting I tend to turn on the Monkees Greatest Hits and promptly fall asleep.
Now, this may all sounds pretty normal to those who take the bus often because granted there's nothing all that unique about old lady witches and robot-ladies but every so often the most wonderfully strange and creepy man jumps onto the bus. The singing Italian. There is a man who is probably not much taller than me (I am only 5'2) and he is the roundest little old man. At first you look at him and are like oh what a funny little old man. No. You would be so wrong. This old man then begins to sing in Italian for a while, and then when he gets bored of that he marches around sitting awkwardly close to people even when theres empty seats and proceeds to try to make conversation. Main problem with this is he barely speaks English, he knows about three words that I have ever heard: Hello, Cigarette, and Change. The best part about him, is the days when he has been clearly sedated and cannot speak he still walks around creepily leering at people and rubbing his fingers together in the "give me money" motion. Every time he gets on the bus I look out the window intently, never wavering to check for his location, because should he catch you looking at him he will attack. This sounds very rude and heartless... You may be thinking "But Tanya, this poor old man is probably just in need of money..." And my answer is "But Internet, I can barely afford to heat my own house let alone support this mans smoking habit."
And then we wouldn't be friends anymore because you would think I was an ass. And I think I would get over it in time but would still think of you on slightly cloudy days.
Bye for now Internet!
PS: The most important part about the Singing Italian is his wardrobe. He varies between dressing like a woman middle school teacher, a construction worker, a farmer, and a crazy Italian. He has in his possession a full middle-school-teacher parka complete with fuzzy hood and embroidered back, Carhart style-construction-grade brown overalls and work boots, jean overalls and plaid shirts, and then the way-too-thin white button ups with some kind of creepy short shorts and shiny shoes. All on the same guy, often in one week.