Part time friends.

I've sort of already ranted about this before, but I don't care, I'm doing it again and if you don't like it, stop reading now. But really, keep reading.

Okay. So I have a few friends that try to pull this "part-time friend" bullshit with me.

What is a part-time friend, you might ask?

A part-time friend is a person that you don't see very often or talk to very often. You probably don't even hear from them very often, and when you do, it's usually because they want to talk about themselves. Do you have one? I bet you do.

I fucking hate these people.

Sorry, I don't want to have you text me or talk to me on Facebook just so you can talk about your new significant other and how great they are. I don't want this to happen because you're not going to speak to me again until you need to tell SOMEONE about all of the super fantastic interesting things going on in your life.

If I'm having some kind of get together, don't be surprised if you aren't invited. Don't try to wrangle yourself an invite if you aren't invited. If you aren't invited, it's because I don't consider us close enough to bother right now, and/or because your behaviour is pissing me off and I currently wish that you would die.

The one that really gets me is people who talk to me just to talk about themselves. I have one "friend" in particular that does this. I go months without hearing a word from them, and suddenly they're texting me or messaging me on Facebook, talking about their life, seeking advice, and then promptly shutting up once they've used my vast amounts of wisdom. It's another couple of months til I hear from them again, and the same thing happens.

Here's some brutal honesty. I probably give you my advice because I want to be able to say "I told you so" when you don't follow it and end up fucking things up for yourself. I may not say it to your face, but my god am I fucking thinking it. Even if I don't give you advice out of spite, I do it because I think I'm generally rather good at it, and any advice that I have to give is good practice for when people that actually matter to me ask for it.

In short:

If you treat me like shit, if you only try to be present in my life when it suits you, if you only want to be included in things I'm doing because your other "friends" will be there, if you only talk to me for advice, if you literally don't know the first thing about what's going on in my life, if you can't even be bothered to ask me how I am once in a while, if you're going to try and excuse your douchebaggery by saying you've been busy with your significant other, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you to fuck the fuck off.

If you do this, my tags seem to indicate that I really fucking hate this, to the point that I used three different tags to say "I hate you". Please take this as a warning. And do not try and call me out if you think this post is about you. It's not really about anyone in particular, but if you think this applies to you, it probably does. So make your decision. If you want to try and stay friends, great. If not, I obviously don't really care.

Reason # I don't even know anymore because there are SO MANY

For why I fucking hate my job.

So today, Michele and I were tidying up the store (see, sometimes I forget that the minute I put my stupid vest on, I cease to become a human being, so sometimes I'm completely amazed at what fucking rude pigs people are when they come to shop at that shithole) and we ran into Cindy (I love her) when we headed down another aisle to keep picking clothes up from the floor because it's far too difficult for anybody to do it when they knock things over because they are FAR TOO BUSY DO NOT BE SO INSOLENT.

Yeah. So we went down the vintage aisle, and we ran into Cindy, so we all started hanging stuff up and the like together. And I noticed that it smelled there, and I finally decided to ask Michele about it, thinking that she had probably farted (she's just like that, it's hilarious). And I turned around, and she just had this look on her face that I have never seen before, and she says, "You guys." I look at what she's looking at and oh god what the fuck why is this happening.

Have you guessed what it was?

If you guessed that it was a pile of clothing for men (button up shirt, pants and tie) with A PILE OF FUCKING SHIT ON IT, you're right.

What the fuck is wrong with you you disgusting human being there are bathrooms that are open ALL the time and people shit in there ALL the time and I hope we fucking see who you are on the camera and I will find some way to obtain your image from the security video, I shall blow the photo up and make sure that I put it EVERYWHERE in the store. It will just be sheets of paper with YOUR SICK FUCKING FACE on them and it won't say anything underneath. And if you ever come into the store again you'll be like WHY IS MY FACE EVERYWHERE and I'll see you and I'll say YOU SICK FUCKING FUCK IT'S THE SHITTER IT'S THE SHITTER because you're a disgusting person and you don't deserve happiness or nice things and SERIOUSLY ARE YOU A CHILD.

Bus etiquette.

I never used to have to take the bus, but since I've moved away, I have to take the bus all the time. And do you know what I've realized?

Most people are fucking assholes on the bus.

Here's a list of my least favourite fellow bus patrons.

1. That dickhead who is sitting on the aisle seat when the inside seat is empty, and they won't move to let someone in and they won't move over. I fucking hate this. All of the buses I take are always for really busy routes, and I see this all the time. I just want to slap that asshole (invariably some cocky as shit guy who's sprawled out laughing and texting or some girl who just stares at people, daring them to ask her to move) and say, I get that you feel insecure about your size but MOVE THE FUCK OVER OR GET THE FUCK OUT because you're a rude piece of shit and I hope you die without ever seeing a unicorn.

2. Aggressive old ladies. I don't know if it's just me, but seriously, at least once a day on my various bus trips, some old lady sits next to me, pretty much bodychecking me over when she sits down, and proceeds to beat me with her purse for the duration of the trip. Why do these things happen to me. If I have the fucking NERVE to give her a look, she just glares at me like I'm the worst person ever for giving her a look because she's elderly and can't stand for long and her husband was in the goddamn war and they were poor and she walked five kilometres to school every day and DO I FUCKING THINK MY LIFE IS TOUGH?

3. This one is more a pet peeve for standing. In the mornings, the bus is ALWAYS full when I'm going to class. Even if there are empty seats, I'd rather stand and risk stumbling around like a fucking idiot than sit next to someone that I don't know because what if they need to get off before I'm getting off and then it's all crowded and I can't stand up to let them out but they think I'm just being a dickface and then it's just really bad? Yeah, exactly. I bet you worry about the same thing. Anyway, I hate the asshole on the bus that is standing, wearing a giant backpack. I always seem to end up standing near these assholes. You know, the ones with inner ear problems so that they constantly lean back and press their backpack all up on you and you're like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU KEEPING IN THERE A CORPSE WHY CAN'T I BREATHE. That happened to me this morning and I just wanted to tap him on the shoulder and say excuse me, but the dead babies in your backpack are INHIBITING MY ABILITY TO BREATHE WHAT ARE YOU A DOG FUCKING STAND UP STRAIGHT AND TRY BEING CONSIDERATE OF OTHER PEOPLE ONCE IN A WHILE YOU FUCKING DICKBAG.

4. Any students that are not university students. AKA middle school and high school kids. I can't be objective about what I was like at that age (but I'm sure I was perfectly behaved and fucking awesome), but seriously, kids these days are loud, stupid little toe rags and I would kill every last one of them if I could. You may think that I'm joking because of the Harry Potter-esque insult in there (I belong at Hogwarts, just look at my scarf and tie), but I'm not. I really do hate them and I really do want to kill them. The other day, I had stopped at the grocery store for a few things, and I could tell when the bus was coming up that it was going to be quite full. So I made sure to let this elderly couple get ahead of me in the "line" to get onto the bus, since I'm young and can handle waiting eight minutes for another bus but what if they're in a hurry to use the washroom or take their heart medication? I don't want that on my conscience. Anyway, most of the other people at the stop followed my lead, except these stupid little middle school children, boys and girls (and the girls were all chubby little things wearing leggings as pants WHAT PART OF "THEY AREN'T PANTS" IS SO HARD FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND). They just pushed ahead of them and the elderly couple ended up being left behind, because there were already people in wheelchairs and a couple of older people with walkers so the little elderly man couldn't have gotten on. The bus driver motioned for me to go on, and I went reluctantly because nothing makes me more anxious than a bus full of people that will just stand there and judge me and wonder why I won't make eye contact with anyone, even when I'm getting off the bus and I don't need their judgement.

Anyway, one of the chubby toe rags in leggings was apparently incapable of standing, even with people holding her up and with things to hang on to. Hint: that's what those straps above you on the bar are for. She was standing in front of me and kept crashing into me. She was also a combination asshole, since her GIANT backpack kept trying to push the last breath out of me while she was being loud, pubescent and toe rag-ish. So finally, I got all fed up and I was like, "What are you, a dog? Can you not just stand there, you little toe rag?" or something to that extent. She just turned around and stared at me with her heavy-lidded, overly made up eyes, and I fought the urge to punch her and said, "Excuse me. This is my stop."

Seriously, I hate you all. The louder and more emo you try to look, the more likely it is that I will snap one day and wring the life out of your fat little neck. I hate you so much. Words can't describe how much I hate all of you little toe rags. I actually hate you more than I hate Nickelback and Simple Plan combined.

5. This one is probably the most irritating, depending on who it is. I fucking hate people who yell on their cell phones on an otherwise quiet bus. This seems to happen to me a lot on my way home from work. I go to the top of the double decker because the bottom is full of drunk people who can't get up the stairs (seriously, it's not even 10 PM on Tuesday. Is your life that terrible?), so I figure that I won't have to sit next to someone if I go upstairs. Invariably, there are people upstairs, usually reading or listening to their iPods, and one idiot talking loudly on their cell phone. Last week, it was some guy telling his buddy about how fucked up he got over the weekend. Apparently the friend was trying to out do super loud douchebag, because he was getting louder and louder and saying, "No, no, man, that's nothing, this weekend I-"

Shut the fuck up. Nobody cares about your conversation, and, frankly, if you're going to be so loud, as a person forced to listen to you (I don't bring my iPod to work) I would rather that you were at least saying something interesting. Your middle school behaviour of bragging about what an alcohol tank you are is irritating, and frankly, I bet I could outdrink you. Talking loudly on your phone on a bus doesn't make you more interesting, it just makes people hate you.

God. Taking a bus is crappy enough without all of these douchebags present.

Would I be considered one of the douchebags? Is "seething midget girl radiating hatred toward everyone on this bus she may kill us all OH GOD" a category on your douchebag bus patrons list?

Social anxiety... part one?

This isn't really a rant, but it's about something that I hate... and I had a few conversations (over Facebook, private messages on FB and even at work) about the blog I posted about my anxiety, so I'm going to talk about it and about the most prominent symptoms that I display. If you suspect you have a social anxiety problem and you display some of these symptoms, you probably do, so...

Wikipedia (lolololol it's just in the easiest format to go through) has the symptoms laid out in different categories, so I'm going to lay them out that way and talk about the ones I display...

Cognitive:

- "social phobics experience dread over how they will be presented to others."

Yes. I really do. I say that I don't give a fuck about what other people think about me, and for the most part I don't. But the reason I don't care is because I'm generally far too insecure and afraid to even give people the chance to judge me, therefore I'm not generally concerned because I know they haven't gotten the chance to judge me as anything more harsh than the short shy chick who's incapable of looking anyone in the eye.

- The next part is long, so I'll paraphrase and break it into bits instead of quoting directly: The social phobic (I sort of love that term) may be overly self-conscious, overly critical of themselves after activities or have high performance standards. The sufferer tries to create a well-mannered impression but believes they are unable to do so.

Yeah. I dunno if any of you have noticed, but I'm so ridiculously self-conscious that I actually hate myself for it. Seriously. I'm overly critical of myself after situations (I experienced DAYS of self-loathing over the "I'm not lactose intolerant!" remark) and I definitely believe that nobody who ever meets me will ever think that I'm a healthy, well-adjusted person. So... yeah. Fucking hell, I'm blushing and my heart is beating all quickly just from thinking about that STUPID FUCKING COMMENT WHY DID I SAY IT.

- Many times, prior to the potentially anxiety-provoking social situation, sufferers may deliberately go over what could go wrong and how to deal with each unexpected case. After the event, they may have the perception they performed unsatisfactorily. Consequently, they will review anything that may have possibly been abnormal or embarrassing.

See, I always put this symptom down to the fact that I write and have for a very long time. I just figured it was more a desire to shape my own world the way I can shape my world in a story or book than an actual problem. Apparently normal people do not do this. I find this hard to believe. For example, when I say something in class, it literally takes me hours to work up the guts to say it. In seminars, I will do the assigned reading and come to class with ONE thing that I want to say. That's it. I won't think intensely about anything else because it will be a triumph for me to say that one thing. So after I do the reading, I sit there thinking about how I will phrase what I want to say. Then I will slowly start thinking about potential reactions from my classmates and professors. Then I get scared because I think my professor and classmates will think I'm a fucking idiot, and I decide that I don't want to say anything. And then I remember that I want to do well in my classes and that seminar participation is worth a quarter of our grade, and I start hyping myself up to do it again. This usually takes about a week. Then, on the day of the seminar, I focus on nothing else in any of my classes. I think solely about what I will say and what I will say to any potential questions. I never think about what I will say to people who disagree with me because fuck you this is difficult enough already.

Then I get into the seminar. And I don't listen to a single word anyone says. I keep my head down and I draw cubes and triangles and I keep thinking about how I will word what I want to say. Once in a blue moon, I will actually raise my hand to say it. It takes about ten seconds and that is the culmination of a week's work. And I phrase it wrong and sound like an idiot and oh god why am I blushing and stuttering and why is my heart coming out of my chest and everyone thinks I'm so stupid they're all wondering how I even got into this university and my professor thinks I'll never be any kind of historian because I'm an idiot and WHY AM I HERE.

I feel sick just thinking about all of this and I don't think my cheeks will ever return to their normal colour, but okay, onto the next group...

Behavioural:

- "Social anxiety disorder is a persistent fear of one or more situations in which the person is exposed to possible scrutiny by others and fears that he or she may do something or act in a way that will be humiliating or embarrassing. It exceeds normal "shyness" as it leads to excessive social avoidance and substantial social or occupational impairment. Feared activities may include almost any type of social interaction, especially small groups, dating, parties, talking to strangers, restaurants, etc. Possible physical symptoms include "mind going blank", fast heartbeat, blushing, stomach ache, nausea and gagging."

I don't want people to pay any attention to me. Ever. I don't want to put myself in a situation where people will pay any amount of attention to me that is more than the level of attention required to notice that there is another human being in the vicinity. I don't fear that I will act in a way that is humiliating, I know I will. In the various number of social interactions that I have to deal with on a day-to-day basis, there will be at least one event that is so humiliating that I will not be able to sleep because of it.

For example, yesterday, a lady was buying a bear costume. If the nails aren't painted, I never know if it's a man or a woman because I can't look people in the eye, but yeah, her nails were painted a really garish orange, so... yeah. Anyway, the bear costume. I was folding it up like I normally do, and I was going to ask her if she wanted a bag before I told her that her total was going to be $8.95.

She was talking to some friend she met up with in the line, though, and I stood there waiting for a break in their conversation, hating myself more with each passing second and wishing that I had the courage to actually look at her to get her attention, until I finally managed a meek, "Sorry..."

She stopped talking to her friend right away and said, "Sweetie, I'm so sorry!" and I was automatically even more ill at ease because who is this woman with the garish nail polish and why is she calling me sweetie I don't know her I DON'T KNOW HER and the type of person that will call strangers "sweetie" is a person that really scares me a lot.

I shook my head a bit, still blushing furiously and unable to make eye contact, and I said, "Do you want a bear?"

Yes. I asked her if she wanted a bear because I was so anxious about the whole situation that my brain stopped working and kept focusing on the costume.

And then she laughed, and it was the worst thing ever, and I didn't fall asleep until after three in the morning because of it.



I literally cannot write anymore because the memory of that is making my hands all trembly and cold. More later, if I can manage.

WB.

I fucking hate WB.

As in Warner Brothers? Yes, those fuckfaces.

Kaydee and I ordered some stuff from their official HP merchandise online store (I don't need your judgement), and Kate texted me to say that we had some slips about the delivery for them. We had ordered Ravenclaw scarves and ties, in case you were wondering. Because we're that awesome.

Anyway, I was thinking to myself that that was a pretty speedy delivery, because (I think) we only ordered them last night. So we were texting back and forth trying to figure out what we had to do next, because apparently they'd tried to deliver them twice but nobody was there to sign for them or whatever. No big deal, right?

Well, over a hunk of cheese and a glass of milk at the kitchen table, Kate and I were talking and I was idly looking the sheets over, when I saw that the green sheets underneath said "invoice".

What the fuck.

I have a confession to make. I shop online. A LOT. Because I don't have to deal with people and their judgement of what I buy (I know they don't judge what I buy but I'm anxious and probably insecure so I think they are) so I do it online, where nobody cares and they'll never know me anyway.

And I've never gotten an invoice for ANYTHING, not even when I bought a singles collection from a guy on ebay that was shipped from the UK.

Because most people who sell online (AKA people who aren't douchebags) declare these things as a gift, right? So the person receiving the item doesn't have to pay duty and stuff like that.

While we were ordering the stuff online, we were a bit choked that it was going to be $15 in shipping (seriously, WB? Canada and the States are not that fucking far from each other), but I figured it was to cover duty, etc.

Not so. In addition to the $55 or whatever it was that we spent on there, we have $21 in duty/taxes/"processing" fees to pay on top of that.

With how fucking rich WB is, you'd think they could suck it up and pay a bit of money so their customers don't blow another $20 on their merchandise.

Apparently the people who own the rights to Looney Tunes, Hanna-Barbera, Cartoon Network (DEXTER'S LAB), Beetlejuice and, yes, HARRY FUCKING POTTER, can't afford to pay some of the fucking money to at least get the charges on an item down to, you know, less than nearly half of the item's total purchase cost.

I'm never ordering from them again. They could start letting people rent Sirius Black (mmmm Gary Oldman) for a year for $20 as a sex/house/whatever you want slave and I STILL wouldn't order from them, that's how annoyed I am.

... Okay, I lied, the idea of resisting a rentable Gary Oldman is proving more difficult than I anticipated.

The point is,

WB fucking sucks.

I'm a fucking poet.

Once, I wrote this thing that was super deep.

It was so deep, so full of emotion that you'll never understand, that it rendered me incapable of writing properly.

That's right. I threw the rules of spelling and grammar out the window and I haven't looked back since.

Because I'm a fucking poet and I don't need your rules.

Yes, when I say "it's ability", I actually mean "its ability", but who the fuck are you to judge words that stem from a feeling that you'll never be emotionally gifted enough to understand?

I can use commas wherever the fuck I want. If I want to use a semi-colon in a place that makes no goddamn sense, that's what I do because I'm a motherfucking poet. Why is this so hard for you to understand?

Just to rub it in your face, let me break all the rules and write a poem right here, right now. And you can read it, you can attempt to bask in its glory, but you will never understand it because nobody has ever felt the way I feel about anything ever.

This poem is called You'll Never Understand the Depth of My Emotion Because You're Not Evolved Enough (I'm the Anti-e.e. cummings).

I am crushingly lonely
And nobody will ever understand, the Depths of my loneliness.
Capitalizing is a formality that serves only to limit Emotions.
Can't you hear; how Deaf you are?
Your SCREAMS pierce me like your love never did
And I am left without feeling, without fault, without fear.
You broke my soul, And I cut myself with the shards.
I'm serious about everything ever
And you'll never understand.


Thank you. I expect the award for bloggiest bestest blog ever shortly. I feel this is my best work.

Thanks to super awesome roommate Kaitlin for assisting me in writing this poem. I feel like this is some of our best work of mocking shitty fucking poetry yet.

do do do doooooooooooo

You know when a former friend can't seem to let go of the fact that you're not friends anymore?

It usually goes one of two ways. Either they message/text/talk to you from time to time, trying to be nice and start conversations (that are clearly not welcome) or they finally screw up the balls to attempt some sort of "confrontation" over perceived wrongs and act like a petty little bitch.

Both of these situations have happened to me, and I hate them both.

For the most part, I try to make sure people know why I don't want to be friends with them (if it's necessary - obviously if they've been inconsiderate dickbags or if we haven't spoken in ages, etc, I don't feel it's necessary in the slightest) but the reason I can usually give (and it's usually true) is that we've grown apart.

I'm twenty. I'm going to be gaining and losing friends like mad over the next couple of years, and the vast majority of my friends from high school won't be my friends in the next five years. Are there exceptions? Of course, I certainly think there are, but the fact of the matter is that there are other people in the world, making and losing friends is completely normal and acting like a douchey bitch isn't going to make anyone want to be friends with you.

I think the most important thing to do is to try and handle losing a friend with some... dignity, I guess? If you have any bones to pick with them (the weirdest pictures come up in google when you put that in, I don't understand), for fuck's sake, don't do it on the internet.

Dealing with confrontations over the internet when you have every ability to do it elsewhere makes you look like a cowardly dick.

If you have a problem with someone, texting them is really not the best way to deal with it.

Pick up a fucking phone, people. It won't kill you and the other person will automatically have a bit more respect for your (perceived or otherwise) balls.

Also, I hate working during October with a passion. Work makes me hate Halloween.

People also make me hate people. I seriously contemplated breaking necks today.

I'm too tired for this. Shitty rant over. I'll do a better one... later? I dunno. I'm feeling a bit depressed because I don't get to go home at all this semester.



Does that about sum up your feelings on that last comment? If so, fuck you.

I think....

That I either need to abandon this blog and start a new one, or keep this blog and make another blog about things that don't want to make me break everything.

I think it might make people think I'm more... sane? I don't know. Perhaps?

What do you, all five of my followers (love youuuuuu) think?

My other blog would probably be reserved for my awkward moments, nice stories (like the customer that gave me the rose plant), memories and perhaps a bit of my writing, if I can get around to it.

Post your comments or text me or tell me at work or write on my Facebook wall... but do tell.

I hate my awkwardness.

This is going to be a different kind of rant, since it's about myself and something I do... but it's also about how people don't respond to my awkwardness correctly.

Obviously.

So Wednesday was just... a really awkward day for me all around. I don't know why. I know I said a couple of weird things, but I'm going to focus on one in particular, and then talk about another one from today.

Okay. So I had gone to the grocery store to get some milk (alone, which I hate doing, but roomie was in class til late and I didn't want to leave it until the next day because I was making cookies and milk was necessary for taste testing purposes after) and I was already all anxious about being alone. I don't know why, but grocery shopping alone is the most awkward thing on the planet for me. I walk in and I just want to shout that I have friends. I can (somewhat) handle shopping for other things alone (like... umm, I dunno, but some stuff, I think...?) but for some reason, grocery shopping alone makes me want to die.

So I was already feeling pretty weird about being there when I walked into Safeway, and my weird feeling intensified as I was walking to the back to grab some milk because my brain managed to convince me that I was the only person shopping alone in there.

I'm sure I wasn't, but when I tried to reason with my brain, I could only remember seeing families or couples or FRIENDS shopping together.

Oh dear god. I was the only person shopping alone in there and I probably looked like such a weirdo with my purse and my giant reusable bag and why had I come here we could have gone a goddamn day without a jug of milk.

And then I remembered that I still had to go through the cashier, and it got worse.

Desperate, I grabbed a little carton of whipped cream (I had also made Jello with fruit in it, so I thought it would be nice to have it on top) to prolong that moment, but in a (fleeting) moment of bravery, I walked up to the express till.

I was in line behind a family, which didn't help, though they were definitely from Newcastle (I have an excellent ear for the various English accents due to my Anglophilia) and it amused me slightly. But then it was my turn.

I saw the cashier give my two items a weird look and I started to panic.

So I decided to try making a joke about it. NOTE: My jokes in socially awkward moments are never funny and they tend to make people really uncomfortable.

"Obviously I'm not lactose intolerant!"

Yes, that is what I said. And then it got worse, because the cashier responded. OH GOD WHY DID SHE DO THAT

"Yeah, lucky you."

I automatically began breaking down that response.

Why did I even say that OH GOD SHE'S PROBABLY LACTOSE INTOLERANT AND I JUST MADE A JOKE ABOUT IT AND THAT'S WHY SHE SAID "LUCKY YOU" AND I'M THE BIGGEST FUCKING DICKHEAD ON THE PLANET I'M BLUSHING SO MUCH THAT I'M GOING TO DIE PLEASE SAVE ME PLEASE LET NOW BE THE MOMENT I GET SMACKED UPSIDE THE HEAD WITH A HAMMER.

I don't need you to tell me that I have an anxiety problem. I'm already quite aware of it, thank you very much.

After that, I kept obsessively thinking about it, and I finally came to the conclusion that she should have tried harder to make conversation with me, because I was obviously so uneasy. That bitch. I should get her fired.

And right now, just reliving that moment is making me want to die, so I'm going to leave the story about my awkwardness from today until later. I just don't want to think about it. My heart's beating all fast and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing.

I need a damn car.

So on Friday night, I was taking the bus home. And by "bus", I mean two buses. Now that we've moved, I have to take two to get home from work.

Anyway, yes. I was on the bus. I was waiting at a bus stop downtown and I basically got mauled (yes, literally, want to see my wounds?) by a group of guys that I would call "party boys", only because "frat boys" don't exist in this city. Yet. And hopefully they never will.

They kept asking me where I was going and telling me that I should go wherever they were going, and I kept saying no, that I was going home, that I had just gotten off work and that I wasn't really in the mood, but they wouldn't shut up. When the bus got there, I thought I was saved. I was really hoping that they weren't taking the same bus as me.

But they were, of course. And they were going to get off at campus, same as I was. So they kept bugging me on the bus, until I finally lost my temper (what? I never do that) and told them to shut the fuck up because their pointless and uninteresting babble was making me want to smash their heads together.

They were all shocked, of course. I dunno, perhaps they thought that my shortness and, you know, state of having a vagina (also known as being a woman) would mean that I wouldn't snap like that.

But you know what? Nobody should have to put up with people being so fucking obnoxious that you want to rip their intestines out and strangle those fuckers with them.

Anyway, once the bus got to campus, they staggered off, and I walked over to get on the next bus. I quickly discovered that I was essentially the only sober person on the bus, and I cursed my terrible luck. I was resigning myself to a short but irritating (and potentially amusing) bus ride when some assfaces in the back seat started singing that fucking "Ignition" song by R. Kelly.

Yes, I know what you're thinking.

"But that song wasn't even good when it came out! It's fucking terrible, in fact! Only people who deserve to run marathons whilst on fire would sing that song!"

My sentiments exactly. In any case, it was only one guy that knew all the words, and everyone else just kept joining in at the, "It's the freaking weekend, baby, I'm about to have me some fun!"

UGH it was so irritating. I was thinking up various ways that I could kill each of them (I wanted to give each their own method of death, of course) when the loudest ones all got off at the same stop. Beautiful!

So I was sitting there thinking to myself that the rest of the bus ride was going to be fine. NOT SO! Some annoying guy from high school was talking (well, trying to talk) to me, and I was being pretty short with my answers. We weren't friends at all in high school, and I really wasn't interested in talking to him, I just wanted to get home. He made some comment about me being a big bitch (thank you), and I just said, "Yeah, I am" so he fires back with something else that actually bugged me, so I said, "Shut the fuck up, your full name here."

I don't want to put his full name, because that would be weird and I also don't want to get in trouble, but yeah. I came home and told Kaydee about it, and the second I finished the story, she said, "Did you actually call him *his full name*?"

In short, working on Friday nights sucks because everyone on the bus home is wasted and you're tired and cranky and you wish you had a big wrench to clock every single one of them.

Oh, also! I worked Saturday night as well, and the bus I was taking home was a double decker. I figured I could avoid the drunk kids on the bus by going up to the top level, since the narrow staircase of doom can be difficult to navigate sober.

NOT SO. I was trying to get off at my stop, and I'm pretty sure a kid had passed out on the stairs.

So yeah. No more Friday and Saturday nights at work for me. Hopefully I'll get booked for some events instead...