Ba-doinger (ba_doinger) wrote,

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Breaking News: I am the new Ricky Martin

I believe it’s safe to say that I’m not the new incarnate Jesus. I don’t enjoy talking to people and I don’t enjoy talking to weirdoes – the type that are mentioned on the statue of liberty. Those huddled masses wanting to bug me for stuff.
Wednesdays have been reserved as my “work from home” day, which basically means I lie in bed watching Disney Channel and write a couple emails to look busy. To save myself a Thursday 5am trip to the gym, I decided to take the bus to the gym and then pick up hemmed Chino slacks from the tailor. (I thought it was a good idea to buy some slim chinos so I could wear boots to work and still look “professional.” The tight slacks + boots combination makes me look like a Jonas Brothers reject. Oh well.)

On my trip back home, I was waiting at the bus stop in my baggy sweats and a white t-shirt with my sleeves rolled up. I looked like sweaty doo-doo. I saw this hot, kind of slutty-looking thug girl in a white bare-midriff spaghetti-strap tank top and tight jeans walking my way. I think she was the type to get attention because she purposely went in front of me (It was so much easier to walk behind me). I noticed she was looking at me to see if I was looking at her.

I finally boarded my bus and the only free standing room was near a 50 year old lady with down syndrome. She kept scribbling on a newspaper and mumbling something to herself. A few stops later, we picked up a bag lady. She came into the bus with her sweaty bags full of bottles and crap. I had my headphones on listening to random 80s pop wistfully staring out at the hills and bumps on my route. I heard mumbles and could see the lady with all the bags looking at me trying to tell me something.

“Your hair. You have so much hair! All over! And dark eyebrows!”

“Oh, that’s the only place I have hair.” *I point to my bare arms*

“haHAAAA! I wasn’t about to go there!”

The lady told me all about her love for different languages and music. She told me how no one suspects that she’s a fan of Tom Petty and no one expects her to play the French Horn. She told me about her love for nuts and baking cakes (not eating them – just baking them).

Even though I act like a big curmudgeon, I really enjoy hearing about people’s lives. I guess I can relate to having no one to talk to. Anyway…

Most of her conversation revolved around me.

“I don’t want to sound stereotypical but you got that Ricky Martin thing going on. You have the arm thing like Bruce Springsteen.”

I know this lady doesn’t like to eat cake, but if I was a piece of cake, I’m pretty sure she would have tried to eat me. I let her know that I was nasty and just got out of the gym.

“ It’s ok. You have the right amount of disheveled. You got those hairs all up and fixed and some falling down. You have Charisma.”

After all those comments about my nasty poofy hair and about my smile, I was glad my damn stop was next…
“Make sure to watch the show at 10pm on Thursdays and you’ll know who I’m talkin’ about!”

I don’t even remember how she started talking about the Marlboro man and gunsmoke but that was time I realized I needed to *vroooooom* right out of there.

Ugh, I can only imagine what the people on the bus were thinking… I’m totally going to write a one-act play about the whole thing and get Ricky Martin and Whoopi Goldberg to star in it…

I’m listening to Taylor Swift in the dark, again. French Fry sent out a blurry group snapchat of some dude…Idk who he was but it made me mopey… I hate not having relationship options…

I emailed a strictly platonic ad the other day. The girl sent me a pic – she was really cute but also really thug. We have been emailing back and forth but I got annoyed when her last email was “Yes.”
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