I like to read on the bus, mainly as it's the best way to ignore crazies. And when you spend two to three hours on the bus every day, you meet a lot of crazies.
So there I am engrossed in The Clear Path, which, I might add, is a guide to writing English essays (as its subtitle indicates), safe in the knowledge that no one will want to talk to me about this book. NO ONE. Of course I'm wrong as usual, since I catch some guy staring at the front cover like his eyeballs were glued to it. I ignore him.
Then, the chickie sitting next to me gets off the bus (bitch!) and the afore mentioned guy sits down next to me and starts asking me about the book. Dude! It's an essay help book! Nevertheless, he insists on asking me if I like it, if it's good, and if I'm good at English. Oh lord.
Then he meanders onto the topic of astrology. He actually asked me what my sign is. Get a grip, man! This isn't the 60s. Or the 70s. It's not even the 80s anymore. He says he used to be a Libra but now he's a Leo. Uh huh. Born again, I see.
Then he gets to the crux of the conversation. Do I exercise? Now, I admit, I've been asked the very original question of "Where do you work out?" before by some enterprising soul in the form of Mr. Gold's Gym Macho Man, but this is getting ridiculous. So I go on about yoga and how much pain my body is in and how I think I've broken every single breakable thing in my body. I talk so much, that when I stop for breath he high-tails it off the bus.
I out-crazied a crazy. Smirk.
So there I am engrossed in The Clear Path, which, I might add, is a guide to writing English essays (as its subtitle indicates), safe in the knowledge that no one will want to talk to me about this book. NO ONE. Of course I'm wrong as usual, since I catch some guy staring at the front cover like his eyeballs were glued to it. I ignore him.
Then, the chickie sitting next to me gets off the bus (bitch!) and the afore mentioned guy sits down next to me and starts asking me about the book. Dude! It's an essay help book! Nevertheless, he insists on asking me if I like it, if it's good, and if I'm good at English. Oh lord.
Then he meanders onto the topic of astrology. He actually asked me what my sign is. Get a grip, man! This isn't the 60s. Or the 70s. It's not even the 80s anymore. He says he used to be a Libra but now he's a Leo. Uh huh. Born again, I see.
Then he gets to the crux of the conversation. Do I exercise? Now, I admit, I've been asked the very original question of "Where do you work out?" before by some enterprising soul in the form of Mr. Gold's Gym Macho Man, but this is getting ridiculous. So I go on about yoga and how much pain my body is in and how I think I've broken every single breakable thing in my body. I talk so much, that when I stop for breath he high-tails it off the bus.
I out-crazied a crazy. Smirk.
2 comments:
Headphones also helpful, you can pretend you can't hear anyone who tries to talk to you. If you can hook the headphones up to a walkman, discman or iPod, you can turn the volume so that you really can't hear them.
With your luck, you'll get someone talking to you about how great they think Gwen Stefani is too.
I don't doubt it. I actually saw a girl with headphones on and this guy sat down next to her and poked her to ask her what she was listening to. You can't win.
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