So Monday morning, as I was getting off the bus and heading to the train station, I was like the 15th person in line. My bus route ends at the rail station, so everyone gets off the bus and I would say that most, if not all, people go into the station to get on the train.

This can cause quite a back-up at the turnstiles. Not only are you having to deal with the throngs of people, you also have to sometimes deal with the person who is trying to exit the station through the turnstile you’re trying to go through.

I’m not patient. I’m especially not patient early in the morning when I’m running late and haven’t had any coffee. So I will go to any open turnstile.

We have accessible turnstiles at most rail stations. They are wider and can fit a wheelchair through it. It’s also helpful when you’re bringing a suitcase or some sort of large bag with you that won’t easily fit through the narrow turnstiles.

So Monday morning there was some back-up at the three non-accessible turnstiles. I decided to use the accessible one to a) help move traffic through efficiently and b) because my fare card/pass has been acting up and only likes to work when it is the first smart card to touch the pad. Otherwise it takes me forever to get it to work and then I hold up people and they curse at me under their breath.

Let me preface this with the fact that I was not cutting off someone in a wheelchair to use the accessible turnstile. I was not putting myself before others who NEEDED this turnstile, whose only option was this turnstile. I just really didn’t want to hold up the other line with my touchy card.

So, I enter the turnstile and push the door open. As I do this, I see a little kid coming towards me, followed closely by a man with a stroller. I decided to be nice and hold the gate open for him, seeing as it is hard to maneuver.

This was my first mistake.

He then looks at me and starts screaming at me. (Keep in mind it’s like before 8 AM.) He’s decided that I, as a non-wheelchaired person, shouldn’t be using this turnstile. So he starts shouting, “Because you’re handicapped, right? Because you’re handicapped?”

My jaw drops to the ground. And yet, I STILL KEEP HOLDING THE GATE OPEN FOR HIM AND HIS STROLLER. And then he’s at it again.

“Because you’re handicapped? Right? You’re handicapped? Because you’re handicapped.”

I can do nothing but glare. Which is my second mistake. I should have punched him in the junk.

I finally get my uncaffeniated wits about me and scream back “BECAUSE YOU ARE?” And then I run up the stairs to catch my train. (Thankfully, not falling up the stairs or escalator.)

I have the whole commute in to work to think about this, which just makes me seethe. I have every right to use that turnstile, no more or less than he does. And my using that turnstile didn’t make him have to wait, even a nanosecond, to exit the station. I was through the gate and HOLDING IT OPEN FOR HIS CHILD HE LET RUN AHEAD IN A CROWDED TRAIN STATION AT RUSH HOUR when he got all pissy.

There is no rule you can’t use the accessible turnstiles if you’re not in a wheelchair. And how do you know I don’t have a medical issue where I can’t go through turnstiles? What if I had a fake hip? What if I had a bad back and the turnstile made it hurt more? OH WAIT, I DO.

The worst part is that the Customer Assistants at the stations will encourage exactly what I did during the rush periods. The faster you can get people through, the better. Everyone is happy and no one misses their train.

I just don’t understand. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE??

As a bit of background, all our train stations are very proactive about keeping the pigeons away as best they can. There are barbed-wire like pointy things on any surface that a pigeon can land, for the most part. The CTA does their very best to keep you from getting pooped on while waiting for your train.

But the train platforms are outside and open. So pigeons can still fly in and hang out on the platform. And they will, looking for dropped scraps of food. But don’t feed them, there’s a $200 fine.

All this to say, they aren’t much of a nuisance. Until the other night. And then it became like a combination Birds-slash-Dr. Dolittle.

I was just minding my business, waiting for the next train. I saw a pigeon, ONE pigeon, on the platform looking around. Then all of a sudden four of them flew in from nowhere and the dude next to me was almost decapitated, since pigeons are stupid (although not as stupid as you’d think, seeing as they’ve learned to avoid the third rail) and this one flew right at the dude’s head.

Both of us decided it was best to move when we looked down and it was like feeding time at the zoo.

(There were at least five more than this. Swearsies.)

Now, let me point out that I’m waiting at one of, if not the, busiest platform on the system. Every single train line goes through this stop. It’s ALWAYS crowded. The passengers don’t have a place to hang out, let along the birds. So to see this many in one spot was weird. Add that to the fact that there are mutant animals in the book I’m reading, and I was readying myself for the locusts.

So I moved down and continued to check Twitter on my phone. The rats-with-wings stayed where they were. The Train Tracker said my train was approaching and it couldn’t come soon enough. I like my eyeballs and do not want them to get pecked out.

And that’s when it happened. I felt something. A painful pinch on my big toe. I looked down and one of those fucking birds was pecking at my toe. A PIGEON PECKED AT MY TOE!!!!

My foot odor problem must be worse than I thought if the garbage-eating birds thought my feet were food.

PECKED. MY. TOE.

Just when I figure my life can’t get any weirder.

And, as Ali mentioned, the blog fodder is amazing!

Where else can you just be sitting, silently, reading your book and then realize that the person who has his/her ass near your face just crop-dusted you?

Or, where else can you get a man to rub his arm across your chest, from the right breast to the left?

Yes, that really happened.

A few weeks ago, on a Friday night, I stopped to run a few errands downtown on my way home from work. I only point this out because it meant I was on different trains than I normally take.

I finished my shopping and walked out of the store and almost ran into this dude. I don’t know why I remember what he looked like, but I’m glad I did. He walked funny, but looked like a normal guy coming home from work, wearing khaki pants, carrying a computer bag, and wearing a Toyota baseball cap to protect him from the evening drizzle.

I went on my way, down the steps to the subway to take the Red Line. I was thankful it was later in the evening, since the Red Line can be super packed. I got a seat and went about reading my book and/or checking Twitter.

We got to Fullerton and I debated about switching to the Brown Line there, if there was a train at the stop. There wasn’t, so I went back to my book. But as I was glancing back down at my book, there was a dude running to get into our train car. He almost didn’t make it and got slammed a bit in the doors, but made it into our car. That’s when I noticed it was Toyota hat guy. Who had apparently gotten on with me at the subway stop and then changed cars at Fullerton.

“That’s weird,” I thought. “I knew that guy seemed sketch.”

We went to the next stop, Belmont, and I got off to transfer to the Brown Line. So did Toyota Hat and this other little, old man, who appeared to be with Toyota Hat. I waited a bit for a train, and as it pulled up, I made my way to the door to get on.

And that’s where it got weird. I got stuck behind the little old man. And as soon as he stepped foot into the train, he dropped the envelope he was carrying. When he bent down to pick it up, he was like Shaquille O’Neal blocking out the area under the net in basketball. He wasn’t letting anyone by until he picked up his envelope.

Keep in mind, this is all happening at the doors of the train, so me and the rest of the passengers are still on the platform, trying to shove our way on before we hear “Doors Closing.”

Little Man picks up his precious envelope and then I go to make a move around him because I notice an open seat and I want it. I move left and Little Man jumps in front of me and blocks me, as if he wants to go left. So I decide to go right, to go around him. Nuh-uh, KJ, Little Man is saying because he again blocks me out like I’m going for his rebound. I’m talking arms out, clearly NOT letting me get by. Like this:

This goes on for FAR too long (i.e. any length of time longer than ZERO SECONDS) and I finally see an opportunity to get past him and move to the back of the train to stand so that everyone can board and we can be on our way.

While I try to get past him, Little Man puts out his arm and rubs the back of his arm across my chest, breast to breast, like a full-on grope of my chesticles. Granted it was with the back of his arm, not his grubby hands, but STILL. There was a conscious effort to RUB MY GIRLS!

As this happens, I make sure to let Little Man know I didn’t appreciate his rudeness and his basketball skills by asking him “What the fuck are you doing?” I’m stunned, STUNNED, because I can’t believe I not only just got boxed out by Dennis Rodman trying to get on the train, but that I got felt up in the process!

He must have realized his mistake, because then he apologized. Probably because I called him out to the whole train and everyone was looking at him. The gig was up!

I kept my eye on him from then on out. I saw Toyota Hat appear at Little Man’s side, all of a sudden, and do a slight nod to Little Man. Then they got off at the next stop.

And I was just left standing there reflecting on the most fucking bizarre thing to happen to me in quite some time.

Ahh, the joys of public transit!

:::::

Have you been following all my good stuff over at Food Lush? Yesterday I wrote about a perfect replica of Chick-fil-A’s Diet Lemonade, that you can make at home.

In honor of her birthday, we went to dinner on the street that shares her name:

(Actually, it was a total coincidence. But that didn’t stop us from making her climb a pole.)

After dinner we went downtown to look at the lights and the decorations in the windows on Michigan Avenue. I ended up driving, so I parked in a parking garage. I am too impatient to look for street parking downtown. And since I got a free meal, I was OK paying for parking.

After freezing our butts off outside, we decided to call it a night. My stepmom, sisters, et al headed back to their car (my stepmom’s boyfriend DOES look for street parking downtown) and I headed to mine in the garage. It was a very well-lit garage, one you had to pay before you went back to your car.

I went to the lobby to pay and as I got off the elevator, there was a guy standing by the pay machines. He seemed normal enough, had a cup of Starbucks coffee in his hand. As I approached, he asked for $4. The parking was $14 and I guess he was $4 short. I told him I had no cash and proceeded to pay my parking fee with a credit card.

He then proceeded to tell me he tried to pay with his card, but he was overdrawn because of some large car loan or something. I tried to hurry up and pay without seeming freaked out. I was like “oh man, I hear ya! Money troubles suck! Yuck!”

Then he kept asking if I had any other bills, because he could make change for me. I told him I didn’t have any cash on me. It was actually a lie because I had $40 in my wallet to pay for my cabs on Sunday to and from the bar. But I wasn’t going to give him that money. I just wanted to get to my car and get home.

We rode the elevator together. He was one floor below me and got off and went to his car. I wished him luck and headed up to my floor to my car.

As I was driving home, I was kind of mad at myself because here it is the holiday season and I couldn’t spare any money for this poor guy? I mean, I have $14. I could have paid his parking fee so he could have gotten his car out. Pay it forward and all that. Why am I such a cynic that I assume everyone is bad and going to attack me? Wouldn’t I have wanted someone to help me out if I was in the same situation? Where’s my good cheer and helping out the common man?

But I always trust my gut. And something about this situation seemed shady. I’m pretty sure the fact that I was VISIBLY carrying my pepper spray helped me avoid a bad situation. It was later in the evening. There was no one in that garage. He could have easily followed me to my car and done things I don’t even want to think about.

On top of it, who parks in a parking garage in the city of Chicago, DOWNTOWN, when you know you don’t have money? I mean, you had enough money for coffee at Starbucks. And why are you asking for $4, yet have change for  bigger bills, if I had them? Were you waiting for me to put my guard down and open my wallet and then you would attack?

WHY IS THAT MY FIRST THOUGHT?

I am a generous person. I am generous with my time, my money, etc. I love giving, be it hugs or cupcakes. I have no issue with being generous. I give to charities. And I would rather do that, or give a dollar to a bum on the street, than have given this dude money in this situation. Yeah, it may come back to bite me in the ass karmically, but I would rather be a cynic than be beat up and thrown in a trunk of some random dude’s car.

So am I just way too cynical? Has years of city living jaded me? Or does my being jaded and cynical keep me safer?

:::

Edited to add: I would like to ease all your fears that getting in the elevator with him was not by choice. I tried stalling as long as I could. The longer I stalled, the longer he stalled. And rather than go into a creepy staircase with him following me, I thought going in the elevator CLEARLY armed with my pepper spray was better. Trust me, I have already told myself that if something similar happens again, I’ll claim I need to go outside to get something, ANYTHING.

I realize this isn’t safe. But I also try to limit most of my phone activity while driving to stopped traffic, stop signs and stop lights. If my car is moving more than 5 miles an hour, I’m generally not using my phone to type or read anything online. I say generally because well, I’m not perfect. And sometimes I have to finish typing something up when the light turns.

I’ve gotten a lot better. Because I realize how stupid this is and how DANGEROUS it is. So now I really do limit it to stop lights and stop signs. It makes my commute 100 times faster in the morning when I know I can spend downtime sitting at stop lights catching up on Twitter. It also makes me less ragey and a nicer person in the mornings. Which is saying A LOT because I hate mornings. “Morning” shouldn’t start until at least 11 AM.

Let’s flashback a few weeks or so ago when I was driving home. I was sitting at a three-way stop sign that for some odd reason is very congested. I think it is mostly because people are assholes and don’t wait their turn. Isn’t that always the case at stop signs?

So I’m sitting at this stop sign, STOPPED, about 8 cars back, waiting for the line to move and for me to be able to make my right turn. While I’m stopped, I get a text from Darcey. I decided to write her back, since I knew my reply was going to be short. So as I start typing, the line starts moving. Isn’t that how it always is? So I move with the traffic, inching closer to the stop sign, keeping one eye on my phone and one eye on the road. We aren’t going more than one MPH and I’m aware of my surroundings. This probably won’t win me any good driver awards. In addition, one thing I inherited from my father was my long legs and my ability to use said long legs to operate the car steering wheel and steer the car. I can actually turn corners with my legs. Look Ma! No hands!

I finish my short text and I hear someone honking. I look up and see that yep, we are indeed STILL stopped. And I think “who the fuck honked? It is a STOP sign. We’ll move eventually! Calm the fuck down!”

At this moment, I decide to look over to my right at the car next to me, in a move of solidarity, like “right lady? Why the honking at a stop sign? HOLD YOUR HORSES! Can I get an AMEN to that, stranger lady in the car next to me?”

And that’s when I see it. I see the lady in the car next to me, looking back at me, and wagging her finger, like you would do to a toddler who just stole a cookie off the table right before dinner. And it takes me a half second to realize that she, this stranger woman in the car next to me, is wagging her finger at me. Wagging. Her finger. AT ME! ME! And that she was the honker! Because she wanted my attention to WAG HER FINGER AT ME! TO WAG HER FINGER AT ME FOR TEXTING IN THE CAR!

WHO DOES THAT?

Because I was IN SHOCK, I could do nothing but get all slack-jawed-yokel on her and stare at her in disbelief. With my patented What The Fuck Face.

Because did this stranger woman just WAG HER FINGER AT ME? It’s almost like I could hear that ho-bag tsk-tsking me through the CLOSED WINDOW.

That only lasted two seconds before someone else honked at me because at least this time I was actually holding up traffic at the stop sign. Because I was stopped and staring. At the woman in the car next to me. WHO WAGGED HER FINGER AT ME.

So I went through the stop sign and made my turn and when I got to the light at the end of the street, I Twittered about it.

Take THAT, you finger-wagging skank face!

One of the errands was doing my weekly grocery shopping. As I was driving home from the grocery store, I got into a bit of an altercation. I will preface, I’ve got a bit of The Rage when I drive. I may have been known to give people the finger, or lay on my horn until it stops working (true story!) or follow people who piss me off, just to make them shit their pants. I do realize this is the STUPIDEST thing to do and that one of these times, I’m going to get shot. But I am getting better. I used to be really bad. Until some dude fucking kicked my car door in at a stoplight.

Anyway, on Sunday there was a street fest near my grocery store. Which meant most of the east/west streets were closed and everyone had to take the ONE east/west street that wasn’t blocked. It took me like 30 minutes to go 2 miles on the way to the store. So on the way home, I figured I’d go further south before I cut back west. It would have taken longer, but it didn’t matter because it meant I would not be sitting in traffic. On a Sunday.

So I was driving south, planning ahead of time to turn right on a street named Lawrence (like my dad!). But I grew impatient with the stop lights and stupid people, so I figured I would turn right sooner than Lawrence, to get on the side streets. I came up on an intersection and the light turned red, so I screeched to a halt stopped. I figured now was as good a time as any to turn right. So I checked the traffic and figured it was OK to turn.

BUT, as soon as I turned the corner, I realized I was turning onto a one-way street and I was GOING THE WRONG WAY! Since I made some weird-ass wide turn onto this one-way street and didn’t want to be hit head on, I decided the only thing to do, the safest thing to do, was run the red light and continue going back South. There was NO traffic on that one-way street, so I did not put anyone in harm’s way.

I was really shook up about it. I am a rule follower. I don’t do things like that, especially things that could end up hurting people. I am as impatient as a toddler, but I can WAIT at red lights. I abide by the rules of the road.

As I continued South to Lawrence, I was freaking out and talking to myself saying “I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I ran a red light. OH MY GOD! THANK YOU JESUS! I’m so glad no one was hurt, including myself!”

I pulled up at the light on Lawrence and it was red, of course. So I waited for my chance to turn right. When all of a sudden I hear someone shouting over the music coming out of my radio. And it isn’t me singing along with Kelly Clarkson. It is something entirely different. And then I do something stupid, I turn toward the shouting.

Next to me, on a major street, at a major intersection, is some asshat who has decided it is HIS business to tell me that I was wrong for going through a red light. NO SHIT SHERLOCK. And he scolds me. And tells me about how people could have been hurt and I could have been T-boned by the traffic. Complete with hand gestures to show me what that would look like if my car was his one hand and an imaginary car was his other hand. T stands for TOOL. To which I should have said, “not possible jackass. The only way I was going to get T-boned is if someone else was going the wrong way down a one-way street. I ran a red light to avoid the possibility of being hit HEAD ON. WORSE THAN BEING T-BONED, FUCKWIT!”

I didn’t say any of these things. I was still so shaken up byt the whole thing that I apologized profusely. Along with placing my hand to my chest, showing just how sorry I was and that I honestly didn’t mean to do it. I’m a poor excuse for an aggressive driver.

And then the motherfucking cocksucker WAGGED HIS FINGER AT ME! And then the light turned and he continued on his merry, pretentious way in his stupid Mercedes. And he’s lucky, considering the part of town we were in, that he didn’t get a gun pulled on his ass.

I was SHOCKED. Between the red light running and the jackass and his finger wagging, I got ANGRY. I was so mad at myself for letting that asshole talk to me like that. Like he’s fucking Barney Fife and making a citizen’s arrest. What good does scolding me do? What’s done is done. If he was paying any lick of attention, he would have seen it wasn’t intentional. Fucking people, you know?

I’m glad that I didn’t do anything in retaliation. Like I said, not the best part of town, even during the day. And while Pretentious McWaggyPants  looked like a royal douchebag, he totally could have been packing heat in the back of his pseudo SUV. So it is for the best that I just call him names on my blog and Twitter.

At least it makes me feel better.

But really, I think we all can agree that today was that kind of day. I am clearly not alone, as I saw a lot of the same “TODAY REALLY BLOWS” and “FUCK YOU MONDAY!” sentiments on Twitter today and all around the interwebs.

For me, it all started a little after midnight, right when it officially became Monday, when I couldn’t fall asleep. Not really all that surprising since at that point I had been up for less than 12 hours. But I did plan ahead and took a Benadryl around 9 PM. Those things always knock me out and give me heavy eyelids, so I hoped I would be OK.

I wasn’t. I tossed and turned until after 2 AM. When my alarm went off, it felt like I had just finally fallen asleep. Thankfully my new job has some flexible hours. I can basically come in at 8 or 8:30 (or so is my understanding) as long as I put in my eight hours. So today, as my alarm went off after what seemed like 17 minutes of sleep, I reset it for 30 minutes later. I think it helped. That and the large latte.

The morning didn’t get much better as soon as I walked outside to catch the bus. One, it was freezing. Two, the bus took forever to come, even though CTA’s Bustracker kept saying it was only six minutes away for about 10 minutes, and three, I forgot my hat. It was 30 degrees out and was supposed to snow, and I forgot my damn hat. FAIL WHALE!

Once the bus finally came, it was PACKED. I overheard that the bus ahead of this one had broken down. Which would explain why it was perpetually six minutes away. And while irritating as it is to have to wait out in the cold and then be packed into a bus like sardines, there isn’t much you can do about it. You are a slave to their timetable. Unless you want to walk and/or drive. But clearly the old lady who got on the bus didn’t subscribe to this same philosophy. Which was evident by her incessant loud, audible sighing. To which the bus driver then yelled at her for.

Now I get it. I was irritated too. But if you think that public transportation in Chicago is always running in a timely fashion, you clearly don’t take public transportation a lot and/or don’t live here. What good is sighing going to do? What good is yelling at the bus driver? The bus driver that is carting your ass around, I might add. I wanted to yell GET OVER IT YOU OLD HAG! But it was so packed in there that my face was pressed into some guy’s ass so it would have just been a muffled cry. Like the teacher on Charlie Brown.

Of course my transit woes didn’t end there. Once I got to the Blue Line stop, I got on a train that only went one stop and then we all had to get off. So I had to stand out in the cold some more, without a hat (did I mention this?), and contemplate why I decided today wouldn’t be a good day to drive. But at least I didn’t SIGH. And neither did that lady. Because I pushed her onto the tracks. Nothing like a little electrocution to shut your sigh-hole, grandma.

The CTA Gods made it up to me on my way home, having the bus there as soon as I got off the train so I was home in no time flat.

I’m hoping Tuesday morning will go better. And at least I’ll remember my hat.

This morning when I got on the bus, I put my nose deep in my book and got ready for my lovely commute to work with crazy bus people and loving that I didn’t have to drive in city traffic. (Even though I have to get up earlier, I do actually enjoy taking the bus. Most days.)

This morning’s ride was horrible. It was a little after 7 AM, which will always be an early time to get up for me or a late time to go to bed. I’m not a morning person. Especially when I went to bed with a pot headache and had to get up and shower for work. And I didn’t get to sleep for 14 hours like I want to every day. So little things set me off in the morning – cat puke on my shoe, spilling make-up on my one clean pair of pants and my hair not cooperating. One thing that will make me want to get all stabby? Screaming babies on a bus.

OK mommies, before you send out the lynch mob, let me explain. First off, this little girl was crying FOR NO APPARENT REASON. Which, yeah, I get it, that’s what kids do. But my problem was that the mother paid absolutely no attention. And was totally set on making everyone on the bus STABBY HATE. Clearly this little SCREAMER didn’t want to be strapped in the stroller. Then take her out. Or bring a toy. Or actually look at her because that little girl probably just wants some attention! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST SHUT HER UP!

Mom (or sister or babysitter or whoever she was) was so NOT attentive that when the bus driver had to slam on the brakes, her baby in the stroller with the back towards the front of the bus rolled to the front of the bus backwards and then her weight took over and she fell backward and SMACKED her head on the ground of the bus.

Mom didn’t even flinch. The guy next to me flinched even. Or stifled a laugh. (OK, that was me. Falling anything is always funny. I can’t help it.) DO SOMETHING!

I gave Screaming Baby full permission to cry after this. Which she did. And when mom paid her some attention and gave her some love? Quiet as a mouse. But that lasted about two hot seconds. And then the SCREAMING. And my ear drums were BLEEDING. And all I wanted was a calm ride to work to read my book and relax.

They got off not soon enough, at Division, which is about 30 blocks from my house. That is a lot of blocks. A LOT OF BLOCKS OF SCREAMING.

On top of that, there was a man with Tourettes yelling some nonsensical things REALLY LOUD every now and then. But that was OK because it wasn’t for long. It mostly scared me because he always seemed to yell in the two seconds when Screaming Baby took a deep breath to let out another PIERCING CRY.

And yes, I realize I should probably never have kids. Although, screaming kids are less annoying when they are related to you. Probably because you can slap the scream right out of them. (I kid.)

But then I had the world’s best refried beans at lunch, found out I get to ditch most of Monday for a going away lunch and all was right in the world. Because if REALLY FUCKING AWESOME refried beans cannot make you happy, then what can?

There were some other bonuses to it too. One, it is better for the Earth and two, it forced me to actually move my fat ass more steps than just leaving the couch to go fill up my wine glass or stuff my face with cheese because I had to walk to the bus stop.

My bus ride is interesting, to say the least. I start on the Western bus up near my house on the north side of Chicago and take it deep into the heart of the south side of Chicago in one of the not better neighborhoods of the city.

The first few times I took it, I would look at all the different passengers – the kids riding the bus to school, the people heading to their jobs, the homeless people you can smell before you get on the bus. I am a nosy son of a bitch and I like to look at people and judge and figure out their story.

I stopped doing this rather quickly. People don’t like when the white girl stares at them. They stare right back because what the fuck is she doing on this bus in this neighborhood anyway? And then I get frightened.

So I learned to just keep my nose in my book, whether or not I’m actually reading. In fact now I wear my sunglasses at all times as to not make eye contact with anyone.

It has been fine. I take it during rush hour with other people from my office and generally it is just people trying to get from one place to another.

There was the one time when I was deep into reading Jess Riley’s Driving Sideways (if you haven’t read it yet, go read it now! It is SO good!) and was engrossed in the book, but would be pulled out of my concentration every now and then by the conversation going on in the back of the bus. Two really ugly women were going on and on about their babies’ daddies. And then they were talking about their C-sections, which prompted one MAN to stand up and say “I don’t know how you do it. I could never have babies.” Exactly. You have no uterus.

I go back to my book. A few stops later, I’m trying so hard not to pay attention. But I hear “there’s a lot of hot white guys in thie neighborhood. I’d fuck ‘em. I wouldn’t marry ‘em. I’d fuck ‘em though.” As if someone was asking.

At this point I stopped reading and glanced over my shoulder at these two rather obese women, one missing a few of her front teeth, the other wearing black socks with flip flops, creating a camel toe effect, and wondered silently to myself the kind of men that slept with these women.

Thankfully they got off soon after that because I really wanted to read (seriously it took THAT stuff to stop me from paying attention to the book).

My only other weird encounter was this week. A normal looking, albeit possibly drunk or stoned, man got on at a stop after mine on the way home from work. He was dressed in khakis and a polo and had the paper with him to read. He sat in the seat in front of me that just happened to be perpendicular to my seat, so he was half-looking at me.

I was just sitting there, minding my own business, engrossed in my book (Jennifer Weiner’s Certain Girls), when I feel penetrating eyes burning a hole in my soul. I glance up, not moving my head, and look at this man who just got on. He has half-turned his torso so he is full on staring at me with his mouth half open. STARING. MOUTH AGAPE. Like for a good few minutes. It was creepy.

He finally turned back. Then, a few minutes later, SAME THING. Was he checking to make sure I didn’t go anywhere? Was he wondering when God sent this angel down from heaven to sit next to him on a bus? Was he a closet fan of Jennifer Weiner?

And then he passed out. About 20 minutes later the bus stopped at Fullerton and he got off. I watched him as he got off and stood on the street corner looking like he didn’t remember how he got there, like he forgot the past 20 seconds of his legs moving and propelling him off a Chicago bus. I was just thankful he was far enough from my neighborhood. And that there was no more OPEN MOUTHED STARING.

We’ll see how tomorrow’s ride goes.

:::

In other news, I got my hair did tonight. I asked for something a little different, a little red in my hair since Jodifur just did it and I want to be like her.

Close up for the color. What do you think?

It’s a different cut, a little, kind of shorter, but I like it.

This is my “I shall ask you using an eyebrow raise if you like my sexy new hair, even though the humidity has fucked it up already and I’m additionally trying to conceal my double chin” pose.

And now looking at these photos it probably looks no different to any of you.

Bacon says he likes it. But he’s just trying to butter me up for more Bacon-centric posts.