redders: (holmes - punching)
So I'm just going to type this up in a quasi-comatose haze, because I've apparently lost all ability to TIME MANAGE and I generally spend every moment of my life either working, reading giantass textbooks, or panicking about working or reading giantass textbooks. But bus rides like the one I savored last night?

Yeah. Those are meant to be shared.

Longtime readers may recall, perhaps with an air of fondness, the fantastic adventures of faulty origami barf bags. Since that day, nearly two years ago, I have yet to see an individual to achieve such exemplary standards in the world of mass transit hygiene antics. Yeah, I've seen dudes jacking off at bus stops (at least never IN a bus). Yeah, I've nearly sat in mysterious seat-puddles. Yeah, I've pretty much gotten used to that aroma. But until now, no one has made me crane my head in wonder like Lady Cone-Vomit.

Last night's bus ride began innocuously enough. The gent in question boarded two stops after me, and I don't even remember him boarding, he was so generically well-dressed. It began as... a sniffle. And continued as... well, more sniffles. And more sniffles. And okay, it was sort of irritating--he was sitting about two seats ahead, opposite aisle, and I was getting to the point where I was thinking about catching plague when the woman seated behind him jumped ship to sit in front of me, but so far? That's transit life.

But after a while, I noticed the sounds had shifted. Well-dressed man was blowing his nose. "Ah," thought red, "that's good. He finally found a tissue." But no. I just had to look over and see him blowing into his hand. I... fine. FINE, that's transit life, too--and as long as he doesn't paw up the seat or wipe it on someone, it's okay. Nothing wrong here except--

OH GOD, HE BEGAN WIPING IT IN HIS HAIR. AND PROCEEDING TO TRY TO HIDE THE FACT BY PRETENDING TO STYLE WITH THIS BIOLOGICAL PRODUCT. Parts of my mind figured "no, I must have seen that wrong," until he proceeded to spend the duration of the fifteen minute ride violently expelling pomade from his sinus cavity and primping his bacteria-ridden spikes. Huuuuurrrkkkkk and to make it better, he occasionally looked around surreptitiously before flicking excess gel on the bus floor. THANKS, PAL.

Man, I'm just thankful I was seated far enough away to not get a free sample. It was a pretty challenging ride, though--first of all, because again, no one seemed to be noting this behavior, but mostly because the bus was so crowded that I was trying to hide my usual socially-unacceptable horrortrain voyeurism from my seatmate.

At least you guys are a captive audience!

Oh, and in random typo-enhanced workshops: what a difference a w makes.
redders: (holmes - punching)
You know it's going to be a good bus ride when the driver grabs a bus schedule and starts looking at the map.

Plus, this morning I had two dudes in front of me who A) smelled of urine and B) talked about Our Lord and Savior (TM) the entire ride, all whilst one of them looked hauntingly like an extra-greasy Steve Buscemi.

Apparently, the writers for the public transit episodes of my life are getting paid for the webisodes now...
redders: (bats!)
When I got on the bus to head out to work today, I noticed the woman in the seat in front of mine was reading Remains of the Day.

Some stops later, a student got on, sat next to her, and cracked out Carry On, Jeeves.

Clearly, this was the butler-only seat of the bus.

Also in silly gleeful news: I got my electricity bill today. The billing cycle is quarterly in this apartment, so I'd been fearing it--the set-up fee and nearly three months of electricity? But when I opened it... oh man! The set up fee was only seventeen dollars, and the entire bill was only twenty-three. That's so great! I've only used 19 Kilowatt hours in three months, and that's pretty spiffy. Just goes to show what an old building (with toasty, though noisy, radiators) can do for you. And speaking of Seattle power: Seattle/BBC World Service FTW!
redders: (koyaanisqatsi-buildings)
I just keep having exciting bus stories--I suppose it's just the season for it. I actually considered just not posting about this little event at all, fearing the redundancy of posting daily about my life on the Seattle metro system, but I ultimately decided that this little gem was too wonderful not to share.

To explain this encounter, I first have to describe the layout of the bus. Now, Seattle buses come in a few different makes (and in a number of different ages...), but the two main types of bus are the standard and the articulated. The latter is basically two buses stapled together with an accordion, and if you're really quite interested in seeing what that looks like, have at it.* Anyway, in this accordion section, there are two seats that face one another, as opposed to the rest of the seats that all face forward.** It was from this vantage point that I could see the proceedings of one very special patron of public transit.

I first noticed she was behaving oddly when she pulled a newspaper out of her bag and seemed to be fiddling with it to no purpose. I glanced away a moment, but when I looked back, she'd thrown the paper on the floor at her feet. She put one foot on the paper, and, very calmly, she ripped one page off. At this point I was basically trying very hard to look casual about My Problem With Needing To Watch People Do Weird Things--she couldn't see me, but I figured everyone else might notice that I'm a crazy stalker. I really didn't need to worry about it, though, as no one else--not even the woman sitting immediately beside her--noticed what this lady did next.

She very casually rolled the ripped page into a cone. "Oh," I thought, naive in my busing ways, "she's doing origami to pass the time!" Alas, origami was not on this woman's mind. Instead--and, okay, I'm sure you guys get by this point that she was performing this entire maneuver as if she were the only person on the bus--she just, in an off-hand manner, vomited an amount of bile into her newsprint cone.

Alright, what? I mean, I guess she has health problems, but how am I the only person who notices these things? To make matters more lovely--despite seeming as if she's made impromptu origami barf-bags her entire life--some of the bile leaked out of the bottom of the cone! I mean, at least the accordion-seat is equidistant between the two doors on the bus, so I had good reason to not walk by the bile when I disembarked.

I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised. Most people are pretty unobservant, and on a bus, you're basically trying to not see everyone else. I just want to ask my parents why they thought teaching me people-watching--and not, say, golf--as a fun and worthwhile hobby was a good idea. Come on, Dad! I'm watching people vomit, here! D:

*Note that this link takes you to an image of a bus you might like to ride. To see one of the crap buses that runs the route to Capitol Hill I commonly have to take, click here.

**I'm just enjoying having end-notes for an el jay entry about riding a goddamned bus. Anyway, these seats are commonly regarded as happy little death-traps, as the accordion-thing is the bus' weak spot, and a collision would probably result in a great deal of squishing. Nevertheless, if the bus is full, I tend to take them over sitting next to someone else, and I actually enjoy their movement. And, okay, despite this post, the vantage point it affords to watch other riders. And for reading this tiny font, here's a bonus link from the MetroKC site of homeland security officers doing way-important stuff.
redders: (house - red converse)
On the bus back home after work today, I had the pleasure of sitting next to an upstanding woman who smelled exactly and unmistakably of formaldehyde. When she sat down next to me, I began to notice the odor. I looked about, and even smelled my own hands as casually as possible, as the last time I smelled formaldehyde on a bus it took me five stops to recall that yes, I had been dissecting a heart that morning. But no, this time, it was definitely my friend, The Older Lady With Three Overstuffed Target Bags. Is it honestly too much to ask for the two hours of bus I have to deal with every day to at least be somewhat neutral, olfactory-wise? Apparently yes!

I've been getting pretty in to MPD Psycho! I assumed I'd like it, as I fancy most of Miike's work, but I guess I didn't imagine it'd be this fun. Sure, the premise is dodgy at best (criminal profiler's wife dies, he has a schizophrenic break or something, and develops two additional personalities. One of which hops out of his body, and kills more people. Or, at least this is the plot so far... it's a miniseries not unlike Twin Peaks in that I'm sure I'll find out the actual plot at the end of the series. If ever) but it's enjoyable.

Since [livejournal.com profile] shinkuu was making fun of my half-hearted defense of renting Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century earlier, I thought I'd do a quick competition for The Better Television Show Based on Episode One. Because I clearly have no drive to write papers about drive theory.

Cut for length, and possible spoilers for two shows no one will ever watch. )

And, alright. I... should be doing something constructive. Sleep might be a start.
redders: (holmes - book)
That B-worthy test? I totally got 103%, oh man. I always love that "holy crap, I guess I secretly did know what I was talking about! I was just bluffing!" feeling... This means I can just sleep through the next two tests and still pass, right?

I had a Last Days-worthy bus experience this morning... This vaguely hippie-looking woman was on the bus, working on what appeared to be some math homework (interestingly, she did not get off on the stop in front of the community college, so I wonder where she was going with her algebra) a few seats ahead of me. I had a clear view of her, as she was sitting in the seats designated for disabled passengers--you know, the sort that face out toward the aisle? Anyway, the entire ride, she'd look at her notebook, make some marks, and then erase them furiously. After she did this, she'd chew on her pencil to sharpen it. She seriously did this once every two minutes. For the entire half-hour ride. Occasionally, she'd spice things up by adjusting her breasts that were about to fall out of her poorly-constructed hippie blouse, or by doing what appeared to be looking at the notebook of the guy next to her. Not only did this guy clearly not know her, but he was Clearly A Businessman, and Not Working on 'Algebra For People Who Sharpen Pencils With Their Teeth.'

She is now my second-favorite bus character. After, of course, this reoccurring extra on the 49 back to the District: Tall Skinny Pale Guy Who Sometimes Wears A Fake Moustache. Seriously. It's obviously the same guy, and that moustache wouldn't fool anyone. I really wish I knew what the story was behind that.

Oh man, speaking of moustaches! I totally forgot I had this article squirreled away (I have an extremely poor system for organizing my files. I'm forever finding dead links, news articles I forgot I found, and stories I forgot I wrote) on my drive! Even if I linked to it once, it was two years ago... So here you go, perhaps for the second time: some time in 2004, some dudes in India were getting moustache pay.

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