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 11.15.2005
There is a guy who sometimes rides my bus. This is his life story:
He has two jobs, so he’s “never home.” He “STILL” doesn’t have a home phone. He is a musician of some sort, and he had a MAJOR falling out with his back-up vocalist because she couldn’t fit perfectly into his recording schedule, but that’s too bad, because he was “really looking forward to showcasing [her] on the album.” He has two albums “ready to go”—the first has 15 songs on it, and the second has 11. The second is a dance album, so 8 of the songs are the same as on the first album, but they are rearranged for a “better groove.” He added some extra keyboards to a track entitled, Excuse Me, so that song “really rocks now.” He thinks he sounds much better live than recorded; with the studio microphones he sounds “heavy, like you can hear every hair in [his] nose flapping in the breeze.” Oh sorry, that's "kinda gross and maybe [he] shouldn't have said it." He makes food. “Good, good, good, good, good food.” He’s trying to become “more of a vegetarian” and thinks that that is “just awesome.” He wants everyone to come over and eat with him. He promises to provide “good, good, good, good food.” He’s free tonight around 7:30pm.
Alright, so I know all this about him cuz he TALKS SO FREAKING LOUD ON HIS FREAKING CELL PHONE for the entire duration of the bus ride. I feel super bad for the people that have to ride the whole route with him—my overlap with him is only like 10 minutes, so you can just extrapolate the above story and get a pretty good idea of their plight.
Please don’t ever feel bad if I tell you I’ll call you back when I get off the bus. I don’t want to be this dude…EVER.
Also, I’d like to suggest that perhaps if he did not spend what is sure to be at least two hours on his cell phone every day, he could probably afford a home phone. Cuz he works two jobs.
Duh.
5:23 PM
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My Grey Area 