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I just rode the bus home. Owen has repeatedly told me that he rode this bus, but I didn't quite believe him. I'm speaking, of course, of the Milk of Modern Art bus. (Check out Tuesday, November 25, 2003: Milk of Modern Art if you missed that story). I was overjoyed to see the painting again, but a little saddened that it had been completely decimated by footprints since I saw it last. I guess thats really appropriate in a way. Art is so tragic.
In place of the modern art, there was some performance art on the bus. The actor was a small, half-full Dr Pepper bottle. (Make sure you don't put a period after Dr -- it's just plain incorrect.) He was sashaying along the aisle, moving erratically left to right. It was harder for him to move forward and back because it required a good deal of acceleration to overcome the static friction. I never really realized how much the bus rocks back and forth, even on seemingly even streets. This just further resolved my stance against ever giving up my seat on the bus for a girl (see Thursday, September 4, 2003: More like chauvilry for my views on that).
To top off the entertainment, there were two dumb sorority chicks on the bus with me. They had to sprint in order to catch the bus outside of the MSC. Of course, they were too dumb to realize that the bus wasn't going anywhere. We sat in front of the MSC for a good additional 5 minutes after they came on huffing and puffing and screeching without every once thanking the bus driver they thought had waited for them. At one point, the girl with the nose ring was trying to express to the other, as loud as she possibly could, that their mutual friend was going to fail this semester. "She has taken 1 out of 3 tests so far," she stated aloud. Her friend pointed out what I found to be blaringly obvious ... she had held up 1, and then 4 fingers to illustrate her point. She realized her error, and laughed, explaining that 4 minus 1 was 3, and that was why she had been confused. Sorority girls should be terminated excecution style. Refer to Monday, September 8, 2003: Sorority girls are dumb for more on that subject.
The final thing I wanted to discuss was my cell phone. I was bored on the bus and desperately trying to ignore the destitute art, dancing soft drinks, and waste of breath sorority bitches, so I started clicking around on my cell phone after Allison McDoesntpickup called me back. It had a running total for hours that I've used my cell phone since I got it. You all know how I feel about cell phones (and if you don't -- Monday, November 10, 2003: A definitive opinion on cell phones). My total since I purchased the phone was just over 40 hours of total talk time including incoming and outgoing. I bought this phone around the beginning of July. Lets just say for math's sake that I talked for 2 total days. There are roughly 160 days in that time leaving me talking on my phone for about 1.3% of my life. I have got to get this number down.
I'm on my way to HEB now to buy a turkey with Allison. How do you like that massage Mr. Turkey? I hope it thaws in time. Then tis go time on the documents I have due next week. We are so fucking screwed. Peace out, sluts, I will see you all here tomorrow.
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