Alternate title: Scenes from a bus.

First, I am shamelessly asking for a round of congratulatory high fives, as I am three days into my new West Seattle routine and have, actually, STUCK to my new West Seattle routine for all three days. This means I have woken up at 5 every morning, walked the dog and taken her to the park for fetch every morning, AND taken the bus to and from work every day. I have not yet hit the snooze, rolled over, and said to hell with my dog/routine/broken(ish) car.
(Look out. I’m sensing a bit of Smug Me and we know how that ends.)
Still, though, good on me, so pass the high fives this way. SLAP.
A couple days ago, I asked my social network to suggest their favorite podcasts. (And boy, did they come through. Stuff You Should Know is especially brilliant. And if y’all have any other podcast-y suggestions, please leave them in the comments!) I already subscribe to This American Life and Savage Love but rarely listen because I usually only use my iPod when I’m working out, and who listens to podcasts when they work out and also I never work out, so they just sit in my iTunes, gathering dust. But now that I’m a full-fledged bus gal, I finally have the opportunity to listen and I’m a little in love with these tiny little podcasts that fill my bus time with new information and laughs.
It’s unfortunate when those laughs are of the out-loud variety. Especially when people can’t hear what I’m listening to and I’m just THAT girl on the bus who randomly giggles to herself.
Although. You try not laughing hysterically when Dan Savage tells the maybe-lesbian caller to, “go hit on a girl and let the clits fall where they may.”
(Dear Erica and any family members: sorry for saying clits just then. Twice. But gotta keep it real, y’all.)
The other good thing about podcasts is that I feel snobbishly good about myself. I put the podcast on and get right up on my high horse because I’m SO evolved for listening to something that will teach me about the world instead of listening to silly music. Also, my fantasy is that I will meet a very cute boy on the bus. We will make eye contact and smile shyly. This will happen for a couple weeks until one day he sits next to me. He will strike up a conversation by asking me what I’m listening to and oh, how I will enjoy waxing poetically about ____ podcast, showing my intelligence and worldliness.
(In reality, the cute boy will catch me on an off day and I’ll have to look him right in the eye as I show him the iPod screen with the picture of Miley Cyrus and the words “Party in the USA.”)
(On that day, I will have no shame. I will be too busy nodding my head like yeah. And when he leaves me for the girl at the other end of the bus, the one listening to the smart podcasts, I will shout after him, “GO ON! LEAVE ME! I DON’T NEED YOU. I HAVE A DREAM *AND* MY CARDIGAN!)
(And then, yet again in my life, I will be THAT girl. But honestly, I could never be with a guy who didn’t appreciate the genius that is Miley Cyrus. Or at least support my right to choose to listen to horrible music. I can’t be tamed either, y’all.)
Here’s a lesson I learned this morning re: the bus. If I sit on the right side of my first bus, I may slide around the seat as the bus goes around the sharpest curve in the history of sharp curves. If I am wearing leggings, I will most assuredly slide around the seat. And finally, if I am not paying attention to when the curve is coming, I will not only slide around the seat, I will FALL OFF the seat. And when I get up off the floor, brush off my dignity, and try to sit back down, the bus will most assuredly hit a big ass bump and I will fall again, this time into the lap of the person across the aisle.
Dear Asian Lady across the aisle,
I’m so sorry I fell onto your lap. I’m also sorry that I went to rescue my backpack and iPod first, before getting off of your lap because that meant I was sitting in your lap as I reached down to the floor to pick up my dropped items. Which meant I sat in your lap for approximately 17 seconds.
My bad,
Booyah
(Dear blog readers: Right now you should count to 17. Go ahead. I’ll start you off: 1 Sugar Plum Fairy, 2 Sugar Plum Fairies, 2 Sugar Plum Fairies…)
(17 seconds is an uncomfortable amount of time. That’s all I’m saying.)
This blog has been brought to you by King County Metro, The Association of My Sprained Dignity, and Parenthetical Asides Anonymous.
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