To start things off here is a short story about an evening in my life.
I was in town this evening. That place just keeps getting worse. I was harassed three times by the same person for money, time and a lighter. He got none of the three. I never get tired of the joys of going to town at night. The plan was to go see a movie, which happened eventually. As usual, what we saw was based on whatever was on at the time and not what we wanted to see, so we ended up at a sub-standard movie called "Scary Movie 4". That's right, there are actually three others. Amazing. Despite this, a good time was had so far.
After wading through drunk teens with their Dutch Gold I finally get my bus back home. I always find bus journeys very interesting. My fondness for public transport never seems to diminish; As I sat there in the smoke filled upper cabin, I like to look out the window at whatever is going on outside. Of course, I also hear bus conversations over my discman (yes, I don't have an mp3 player) which just can't seem to go loud enough, and let's not forget the lovely smell of beer from the floor and the tens of cans rolling around on the floor. How about a snipped of conversation?
Girl: "OMG loike, put the pics up on Bebo! How many profile views do you have?"
I couldn't actually hear the guy's response since he wasn't screaming his lungs out in the enclosed space that was known as a bus.
Girl: "What? I have nearly FIVE THOUSAND views!"
I'm sure the skanger down the back didn't understand a word of it. I then changed the track on my discman to a slightly louder Tool song. We then get to my second favourite part of the journey, "The Wezz". I make sure to pay special attention when passing this area. There's just so much scenery to take in. I enjoyed such views as a girl sitting at a bus stop who was so wasted she couldn't even hold her hear up without propping it up on the glass or letting it fall inbetween her legs, which were covered on vomit. The people standing around her seemed unphased. Beside all this was a sea of children who looked old enough to be doing their Junior Cert. I can only assume that they were all wasted. They were contained within barriers, like water in a properly folded piece of paper. The bus journey continues. We pass Bondi. Luckily for all the readers, I'm not going to get into this right now.
Finally we come to my favourite stop; my stop. I get off and pass a group of girls wearing what can only be described as paint. This was no ordinary paint however, it smelled strange, and not in a good way. It did not smell nice like paint should. I cannot describe this smell so you will have to go out and find out for yourselves. I continued hastily on my way and made it home safely within a matter of minutes.
