Sunday, 27 March 2011

First thing I hate: People reading on buses.

   Ok so it gives it away in the title. I fucking hate you, people who do this. Reason being what's been happening with me since I was 15-16 attending college. I'd get up in the morning, go for my bus, get on sit down and look all smug. This is me, big adult, out of school, on a bus at 7am with my normal clothes on like a mother fuckin' young adult and I was an equal among the mix of tired business folk, students, and old people who just don't understand things don't open like the crack of dawn like you do, go home and wait til 10am when the world you wish to see starts, moron. So while sitting there I started to notice a vital difference between me and those sitting on the bus around me. No ipods, no gameboys, mp3's of any sort, not even any yawning or talking to the eejit next to them to pass the time, no no no. They had books and newspapers. Suddenly feeling self consious, I stared at my ipod as if it was some evil disgusting weight holding me back from adulthood.
    So a week later, I once again got on the bus, minus my ipod, and grabbed a newspaper from the beginning of the bus. Once again, I was among equals. I was a big girl, and I had my goddamn newspaper. However began the problem. The bus was so bumpy I could never finish one line of a paragraph I was pretending to give a fuck about. Since my low attention span doesn't allow me to pretend I'm doing something, I suddenly began to miss my ipod and solitaire. But no one else had been effected by these bumps? They all sat there, reading away like the smug fucking pricks they were, as if they had some sort of super enhanced character recognition I lacked due to being a younger human. I wouldn't accept this. Was I on a bus full of robots? Brainwashed by cheap coffee? Or maybe it was their better eyesight?
   And so the week after that ordeal I had bought glasses. Still no change. They had to have been robots. The best way to test this was to draw in the condensation on the window to see if there was any reaction. At first it was silly things like faces, houses, hearts, little fuzzy gremlin like monsters I pictured sitting under the seats of buses using people as puppets just for the sake of my sanity not being the only person in the world and to lead me to believe I wasn't alone. Lying pricks. But, then, a reaction came forth when I drew a male appendage one morning, like I used to do to see if my teachers had actually marked my homework properly and weren't actually ignoring me, assuming I got everything wrong. A robot tapped my shoulder. I turned to face him shyly.
   "Don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"
   There was the answer, staring me in the face. The whole time it never fully occured to me this could be this answer. They were boring. Boring people who pretend to read on the bus because they're boring and are content sitting being bored with boring people pretending to read boring newspapers and cult books that were sold in the top 10 cheap section of HMV which are all films. Boring.
    But this hasn't stopped them. Now, 4 years on, I go on a bus, WITH MY MOTHER FUCKING IPOD, LIKE A GROWN UP NONE THE LESS, buying an adult day ticket, sitting my ass down, and I still see people pretending to read. Maybe it's jealousy? Maybe I'm jealous I now have to wear designer glasses I waste my money on in spec savers in some hope that I look that little bit more intellectual? Well, no. No to you people who read on buses undisturbed. I am not jealous. You, my good sirs and sirsettes (yes it's a word, piss off) are cunts. Evil, boring cunts who think drawing penis' on public surfaces, math books, hands, everything isn't funny, who don't own transportable music or gaming devices, buy cult books which have related movies in HMV's top 10 cheap ass sticker section, take the free newspaper on the bus to read about things that a boring and you don't give a fuck about pretending to read because you won't spend 30p on a bogus newspaper like The Sun which atleast is entertaining with it's untrue stories and Dear Deidre.

Fuck you.

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