Tiger Momming the shit out of her kid…
In the five minutes I sat in front of this woman she told her son he was on too slow of a pace for his black belt (he was roughly 11). Pointed out an overweight woman and said he should never want to be like her (within earshot of the woman). And told him “I’m very disappointed in you” at least six times. Hearing her it made me very happy I was the youngest of three and my parents had a pretty much checked out by the time I was 10. Of course this kid will get a black belt before he gets a pube and I’ve got a blog nobody reads. Advantage… Tiger Mom.
Side note: I should probably get that mole on my ear checked out, right?
Rocking a UNLV Starter jacket…
This jacket really made me nostalgic for 6th grade dances, Z. Cavaricci pants and the first season of the first 90210. Much like this guy, Jerry Tarkanian and C&C Music Factory, I often long for 1991. A time that was so simple that its cheesiness can be forgiven.
With an umbrella tucked under his johnson…
Dude, what are you doing? With the suspension they have on Muni buses you’re a bump away from being castrato. Most obvious masochist I’ve ever seen. I bet he’s sporting nipple clamps and a pony-tailed butt plug under all of that Banana Republic.
Playing the guitar for no one in particular…
Though annoying, I respect people who perform on the bus and pass around a hat for money. Takes balls. But randomly strumming your guitar in the back of the bus? No. I’d rather hang out with the dipshit who brings a guitar to a campfire and starts playing “Redemption Song”, and I loath him. At least he’s hoping to prey upon the cheesy drunk chick that still has a few of life’s mistakes left to make; that’s an endgame. Playing the guitar to pass time on Muni is straight douche, and it blocks the aisle.
Making a “statement”…
Not my best work, but the bag says Anarcho-Feminist. Forget about a blog, I could write a book about how that makes no effin sense. Replacing one power structure with another isn’t really… oh just forget it. The bag should say “I’m in my third semester” or “My family rolls their eyes at me during Christmas”. Pretty much the same thing.
Applying make up on a moving bus…
There’s nothing assholish about this, I just wanted to give props. If I tried to do this I’d end up looking like Beetlejuice after a month-long bender. Outside of birthing children this is probably the most impressive thing women do. Sorry, that’s sexist, I’m sure drag queens are badass at it too.
Talking about mundane shit on the phone…
If you’re talking about today’s meeting, tonight’s “The Bachelor” or this weekend’s engagement party, then STFU, that shit can wait. But if you are talking about the money you’re embezzling, who’s ass you’re going to kick or why your parents’ loveless marriage is the reason you can’t keep your pants on, put it on speaker.
Reading the bible out loud while on meth…
Reading incredibly fast and randomly/drastically changing the volume of your voice won’t help you find Jesus. The son of God doesn’t ride the bus. He rides a fixie and is a douche about it.
That tags the inside of the bus…
Graffiti was badass… when break dancing was badass. But it never recovered from Michael Jackson’s “Bad” video when a guy in roller skates creepily undulated in front of freshly spray-painted wall. I’m sorry, you can’t be associated with 30 guys in butt-tight clothes doing a choreographed number and still be considered tough. Dems da rules. I watch Gangland, so I get that tagging is about claiming/reppin’ your hood and other things that thank God I never had to learn, but tagging the inside of a bus just tells the world that you and none of your friends have a car. Baller.
Who Gets on the 30 on Stockton… Everyone knows it. Don’t make me say it.
Teenagers…
San Francisco is a lot like a reverse Children of the Corn. There are strollers and toddlers crowding the sidewalks, but a dearth of pre-teens, tweens and teenagers. And while I get this is part of an unfortunate cycle of yuppies driving up housing prices through gentrification, and bailing to the burbs before their kids reach Kindergarten because of the school system, making it harder/less plausible for families to stay in the city; I don’t care. Adolescents are awful.
So it’s both rare and disconcerting when a group of acned, slump shouldered, mouth-breathers boards the bus. It’s awkward being around people in their awkward stage. They’re loud. They’re clumsy. They’re tough to look at. And they have a natural exuberance that has no place on Muni. They really should have their own bus. You know, a school bus.
Who leaves behind a copy of the Examiner…
While the San Francisco Examiner is a surface-level conservative rag, it’s also perfect for bus rides to work. In 20 minutes, you can learn very little about a lot of topics without taxing a pre-coffee brain. Plus, it’s free.
But perhaps because the content is so forgettable, people often forget to take their copy with them. Seems harmless, and maybe some people leave their copy for others to read. These people are idiots. Nobody touches stuff left on the bus.
Instead it gets knocked to floor, stepped on, spilled on and generally Muni-ed upon. After an hour it’s more stained than the sheets of a fifteen-year-old left to do his own laundry (yes, a rather complicated masturbation joke). Then it transitions to looking like a dead pigeon, and the decay continues until it disintegrates from disgustingness. I like the idea of an informed society, but I like the idea of a paperless society better.
Blocking the xxit…
Back door blocking is typically the province of large headphone-wearing males, but regardless of sex, being a hopelessly self-centered prick is the only mandatory.
The rule (official or not) is you can enjoy the extra space that is available next to the door, but you have to make way for people exiting. Otherwise, it’s a clusterfuck at every stop, as people try to maneuver around your fat ass. If you are that selfish on shared transportation, I hope the words “prison” and “sodomy with a foreign object” are in your future.
Who listens to music without head phones…
Almost without fail, people who play music at full volume on their phone on the bus (T-Mobile users?) provide the accompanying vocals; an added treat. Look, I’m all for self-expression, just keep it to yourself. Only once did one of these performances have me not wanting to seppuku myself with my iPhone. A large, possibly homeless, definitely intoxicated man boarded and belted out “Manic Monday” by the Bangles in its entirety over the course of four stops before departing. It was Wednesday.
That I only know a little bit and wants to talk…
It’s not you, it’s me, and I absolutely hate forced-chit-chat on a crowded bus, especially if we’re not adjacent. It’s not that I don’t care about the mundane details of your life (although I probably don’t), it just feels wrong to make the rest of the bus listen to them. Let’s save the inane banter for a social setting where we are drinking. Heavily. We’ll both be funnier and better looking. For now, let’s do the half-smile/wave combo and get back to our respective Twitter feeds.
