Did someone move my food bowl?

Boyfriend's on vacation. That's okay, though. We needed some space.

I saw Smokey this afternoon. I hate that guy. Okay, that's a bit strong but... He's older, probably 55 to 60. He's really short, very round. He always dresses like a former biker guy, with this leather vest and black Levis jeans. He looks like he probably served in Vietnam. He carries with him a portable oxygen tank. It's about the size of a small carry-on suitcase. He always seems to have a hard time getting the oxygen tank on and off the bus. But I can never bring myself to help him. Why? Because he smokes. Like it's his job. He struggles getting the tank off the bus and as soon as he does, he lights up. Seriously, chum, is it that important to you? You realize you might not need to wrestle with the tank if you didn't smoke. It drives me crazy that he does that. People have to make their own choices. I know I've made some not so good decisions in the past, but sometimes those wrong decisions have to be so painfully obvious, don't they? At least he doesn't smoke while using the oxygen. I used to wait table. This old, old woman and her husband would come in and they had to sit in the smoking section. She would chain smoke with her oxygen on. Isn't that, like, flammable or something?

I finished reading Into The Wild on my trip. I had Netflixed the movie which was waiting for me when I got home. I watched it this weekend. Normally the book is better than the movie. In this case, I recommend them together. They each give you the story of his life, but from two perspectives. The casting from the movie was spot on, by the way.

The 105 I normally take has been running super late recently, so I've been taking the bus just before that. I've come to realize most of the Triangle's nuttiness is reserved solely for that bus. Nothing crazy happens on the earlier bus. No one talks out of turn (Amy...I'm looking at you).

Coming home tonight, there was a new guy on the bus. When he got on, I was wearing the headphones, so I didn't hear the conversation between he and the bus driver. Once the bus started moving, however, he kept asking, "Is this the bus stop?" Every time the bus stopped. Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? This was not helped by the fact that the bus driver felt the need to get off the bus every three stops for a Cheese Doodle break. Did she know that I wanted to go home? Did she know I was starving? Probably not. I didn't feel bad being caught on camera eating my peanut butter and jelly.