On the way home tonight, there was a couple sitting in the sideways seats across from the backdoor. Clearly one of them had just arrived by plane, but I am not sure which. She was holding a cheezy gas station rose, which I am sure smelt of hotdogs, and she looked like she hadn't bothered to fix herself up. Believe me, nobody understands better than I the tragedy that is "Plane Hair," but c'mon sweetie. Then again, they were all over each other like 10th graders, so maybe it wasn't necessary. But still, he was all dolled up.
Between the two of them, they had a fairly large suitcase. At some point during the make out session, the suitcase gets away from them and falls and hits the backdoors. And breaks the glass in the door. As in, the back of the bus is suddenly a bit more breezy then before. Funquita is driving, so naturally, she doesn't notice. How she didn't, I can't fathom. It made a loud cracking noise. The dude picks up the suitcase and begins making out with the frump again, like nothing happened. Everyone else was just too flabbergasted to do or say anything.
Seriously, peoples, I can't make this stuff up. I occasionally hear, "oh you write about the most clever stuff," or some such nonsense. I swear I don't. I am only reporting on what I see. Truth truly is stranger than fiction. Now get out there and ride the bus!
Showing posts with label Funquita. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funquita. Show all posts
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Oh hai. Can I has a ride?
I left work this evening like I do every evening and walked down to Miami Boulevard to catch the bus. For those of you outside the Triangle, Miami Boulevard is a very busy road in what's called Research Triangle Park, or RTP. This where most people in this area work, at companies like IBM, Glaxo, and BASF. Needless to say, this hotbed of science and technology creates a lot of traffic. I had to run across Miami then walk a little ways to get to the bus stop. I was wearing a button up shirt today and as usual, had my backpack on. As I step onto the grass on the side of the road, I realize a button has come undone on my shirt. The one right in the middle that contains The Ladies. So, I'm walking down the side of one of the busiest roads in RTP, buttoning my shirt, and I realize no one has slowed down or honked or anything. Hey...what am I? Chopped liver? Not that I wasn't totally embarassed, but c'mon, I'm kinda cute! Jeez. Tough crowd.
I am happy to report that Funquita drove like a normal person today. She was actually able to deliver me to Hillsborough Street so that I could get to the art supply store before they closed. With time to spare. Clearly she knew how important it was for me to pick up black paint and a tiny brush to finish Ian's canvases tonight.
On my way home, I saw The Popsicle Bike. Recently, I have seen this young Hispanic kid in a bike, riding up and down Hillsborough Street. On the front of the bike is a big cooler, full of popsicles. I was finally in a position to stop him today. I was on the phone with L, told her I had to go, and hung up on her. (Sorry, L) He was on the other side of the street, on the same block, headed away from me. I started running up a slight hill, in a skirt no less, waving my lunch box, shouting, "Hey, Ese!" I finally got his attention and made a mad dash across the street. Without thinking, I started talking to him in Spanish. I was naturally out of breath by this point. We talked about what he was peddling, for whom he works, etc. He was thrilled I could speak Spanish. He wanted to know where I lived. While staring at my living room window, I said "near here." He wanted to know if I was married. I said I was not. He confirmed I was single and offered to take me to Mexico. (In Mexico, Meg-worship is fanatical. What can I say? I'm hot stuff.) I purchased four popsicles, tamarind, pineapple, lime, and rice, and went on my way. These pops were about twice the size of Locopops and only $1.50 each. I opened the rice popsicle when I got home. It was divine. It tasted like rice pudding. It was milk based, with actual rice and cinnamon in it. Very tasty. Looks like my boyfriend has a repeat customer. Better hurry before we run off to Oaxaca to elope.
I am happy to report that Funquita drove like a normal person today. She was actually able to deliver me to Hillsborough Street so that I could get to the art supply store before they closed. With time to spare. Clearly she knew how important it was for me to pick up black paint and a tiny brush to finish Ian's canvases tonight.
On my way home, I saw The Popsicle Bike. Recently, I have seen this young Hispanic kid in a bike, riding up and down Hillsborough Street. On the front of the bike is a big cooler, full of popsicles. I was finally in a position to stop him today. I was on the phone with L, told her I had to go, and hung up on her. (Sorry, L) He was on the other side of the street, on the same block, headed away from me. I started running up a slight hill, in a skirt no less, waving my lunch box, shouting, "Hey, Ese!" I finally got his attention and made a mad dash across the street. Without thinking, I started talking to him in Spanish. I was naturally out of breath by this point. We talked about what he was peddling, for whom he works, etc. He was thrilled I could speak Spanish. He wanted to know where I lived. While staring at my living room window, I said "near here." He wanted to know if I was married. I said I was not. He confirmed I was single and offered to take me to Mexico. (In Mexico, Meg-worship is fanatical. What can I say? I'm hot stuff.) I purchased four popsicles, tamarind, pineapple, lime, and rice, and went on my way. These pops were about twice the size of Locopops and only $1.50 each. I opened the rice popsicle when I got home. It was divine. It tasted like rice pudding. It was milk based, with actual rice and cinnamon in it. Very tasty. Looks like my boyfriend has a repeat customer. Better hurry before we run off to Oaxaca to elope.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Where do I even begin?
The Red Headed Stranger has been going out of his way to say hello and goodbye to me recently. This afternoon, he got off the bus and turned around and waived at me through the window. Seriously he's totally cute. Even if he pulls his white crew socks all the way up. Sigh. That's right. White, ribbed crew socks. Pulled up as far as they go. But it's not in that ironic hipster sort of way. It's really sincere in that way that makes me think he still wears tighty-whiteys.
The 105 is still packed. Yesterday, I had to share a seat with this woman who also rides the bus everyday. She's older, super curly grey hair and extremely long legs. She's really nice and lives a few blocks down from my old apartment. We would see each other on the bus all the time, but never really spoke. She and I talked the whole way home yesterday. She's really nice and it seems like we have some things in common. We were sharing stories about weird stuff on the bus. She told me about this time that the regular riders of the 105 threw a baby shower on the bus for another regular rider. They had balloons, presents, the whole magilla. We also talked about crazies on the bus. I started to tell her about this guy who rides the 201. Before I could go any further, she said she knew who I was talking about. And she did. Turns out Bob is universally creepy. On a recent 100 degree Sunday when the bus wasn't running, I made the decision to suck it up and get one of those wire carts that old ladies use to schlep groceries. I was carrying two bags that were heavy enough to bruise my shoulders a little. (Okay, I bruise like a peach, but still they were damn heavy.) I hadn't gotten around to getting one and now I'm glad I didn't. Bob was at the Transfer Center in his full insane glory with a red wire cart full of overstuffed tote bags. I think this is proof that he can read my mind. Excuse me, I have to go make a tin foil hat.
I had to sit in the sideways seats this afternoon. I set my bag on the seat to do something and stood up all the way and whacked my head on the luggage rack. Now, those of you who know me in real life know I'm not tall enough to hit my head on anything!
The 105 was good blogariffic fun today. It started with Funquita not being able to close the backdoor near NC State. Instead of getting up and fixing it herself, she asks Cross Eyed Mary to do it. (Last week when the bus broke down by the "Veterns School" she handed the reflective orange triangles to passengers to have them put them out on the road. She's classy like that.) Mary couldn't work the door, as to be expected since she is not a licensed transit operator but rather a pee handler at LabCorp. Funquita finally gets up and fiddles with the door. This takes about five minutes. She then gets on the loud speaker and tells everyone to use the front door. At the next stop, on the other side of the university library, a woman screams in the back of the bus. Funquita turns around to see what's up. The woman says the guy with her just hit her. Funquita tells her that's not funny, she should be screaming while she driving, etc, etc, and so on. Suddenly this escalates into an episode of Jerry Springer. The girl in the back of the bus starts screaming at the top of her lungs. Seriously, it was frightening. She startes yelling about how she "got bit." (Someone in the back of the bus bit her?) Suddenly she's bit her lip because Funquita allegedly slammed on the brakes. Nope. She didn't. I am in no way her cheerleader, but Funky handled her business, albeit in a slightly ghetto way. This girl starts screaming that she's trying to get paid and that she got hurt because of a bus accident. Funky asks everyone in front if they heard this girl say she's trying to get paid. We all said yes. Funquita asked her like 15 times if she needed medical attention. Finally she said not right now. These two were going at it like one was messin' with the other's man. She offer to show her the bleeding lip. Funquita declined. Funky then got on the bus radio and said she'd call the dispatcher on a land line. She asked the passengers if they had a cell phone she could use. One of the passengers up front told her she was driving just fine and gave her their phone. She stepped out to call the dispatcher at the same time I decided I'd had enough. We were only six blocks from my apartment and one block from the Indian restaurant inside the Fast Fare. I got off the bus, picked up the veggie thaali platter and caught the next bus home. The Indian food was good by the way. The older lady cooking threw in an extra portion for me. It was awesome, something spicy with a ton of veggies.
There's a new guy at the Chargrill bus stop in the mornings. I call him Dr. Wow. He's an older, completely nondescript white guy. He's always wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants in monochromatic colors a few shades off of oatmeal. He has an NCSU id card and heads over near the forestry stuff on Blue Ridge. At least I think it's a forestry thing there. There is nothing remarkable about him except that he's had a World of Warcraft book every morning. He's been studying it like he's got a final exam coming up. Two days ago he was reading it upside down. Now, I'm not a WOW geek, but it seems unlikely that you'd read it upside down. He also stands in the line of sight of the approaching bus, which annoys me.
I was also ambushed by The Other Amy this morning. I was sitting in the back, knitting and she took the seat in front of me. She commented that my baby blanket was coming along or something like that. We ended up talking for a bit. She's not crafty. That's okay. She's still nice girl.
The 105 is still packed. Yesterday, I had to share a seat with this woman who also rides the bus everyday. She's older, super curly grey hair and extremely long legs. She's really nice and lives a few blocks down from my old apartment. We would see each other on the bus all the time, but never really spoke. She and I talked the whole way home yesterday. She's really nice and it seems like we have some things in common. We were sharing stories about weird stuff on the bus. She told me about this time that the regular riders of the 105 threw a baby shower on the bus for another regular rider. They had balloons, presents, the whole magilla. We also talked about crazies on the bus. I started to tell her about this guy who rides the 201. Before I could go any further, she said she knew who I was talking about. And she did. Turns out Bob is universally creepy. On a recent 100 degree Sunday when the bus wasn't running, I made the decision to suck it up and get one of those wire carts that old ladies use to schlep groceries. I was carrying two bags that were heavy enough to bruise my shoulders a little. (Okay, I bruise like a peach, but still they were damn heavy.) I hadn't gotten around to getting one and now I'm glad I didn't. Bob was at the Transfer Center in his full insane glory with a red wire cart full of overstuffed tote bags. I think this is proof that he can read my mind. Excuse me, I have to go make a tin foil hat.
I had to sit in the sideways seats this afternoon. I set my bag on the seat to do something and stood up all the way and whacked my head on the luggage rack. Now, those of you who know me in real life know I'm not tall enough to hit my head on anything!
The 105 was good blogariffic fun today. It started with Funquita not being able to close the backdoor near NC State. Instead of getting up and fixing it herself, she asks Cross Eyed Mary to do it. (Last week when the bus broke down by the "Veterns School" she handed the reflective orange triangles to passengers to have them put them out on the road. She's classy like that.) Mary couldn't work the door, as to be expected since she is not a licensed transit operator but rather a pee handler at LabCorp. Funquita finally gets up and fiddles with the door. This takes about five minutes. She then gets on the loud speaker and tells everyone to use the front door. At the next stop, on the other side of the university library, a woman screams in the back of the bus. Funquita turns around to see what's up. The woman says the guy with her just hit her. Funquita tells her that's not funny, she should be screaming while she driving, etc, etc, and so on. Suddenly this escalates into an episode of Jerry Springer. The girl in the back of the bus starts screaming at the top of her lungs. Seriously, it was frightening. She startes yelling about how she "got bit." (Someone in the back of the bus bit her?) Suddenly she's bit her lip because Funquita allegedly slammed on the brakes. Nope. She didn't. I am in no way her cheerleader, but Funky handled her business, albeit in a slightly ghetto way. This girl starts screaming that she's trying to get paid and that she got hurt because of a bus accident. Funky asks everyone in front if they heard this girl say she's trying to get paid. We all said yes. Funquita asked her like 15 times if she needed medical attention. Finally she said not right now. These two were going at it like one was messin' with the other's man. She offer to show her the bleeding lip. Funquita declined. Funky then got on the bus radio and said she'd call the dispatcher on a land line. She asked the passengers if they had a cell phone she could use. One of the passengers up front told her she was driving just fine and gave her their phone. She stepped out to call the dispatcher at the same time I decided I'd had enough. We were only six blocks from my apartment and one block from the Indian restaurant inside the Fast Fare. I got off the bus, picked up the veggie thaali platter and caught the next bus home. The Indian food was good by the way. The older lady cooking threw in an extra portion for me. It was awesome, something spicy with a ton of veggies.
There's a new guy at the Chargrill bus stop in the mornings. I call him Dr. Wow. He's an older, completely nondescript white guy. He's always wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants in monochromatic colors a few shades off of oatmeal. He has an NCSU id card and heads over near the forestry stuff on Blue Ridge. At least I think it's a forestry thing there. There is nothing remarkable about him except that he's had a World of Warcraft book every morning. He's been studying it like he's got a final exam coming up. Two days ago he was reading it upside down. Now, I'm not a WOW geek, but it seems unlikely that you'd read it upside down. He also stands in the line of sight of the approaching bus, which annoys me.
I was also ambushed by The Other Amy this morning. I was sitting in the back, knitting and she took the seat in front of me. She commented that my baby blanket was coming along or something like that. We ended up talking for a bit. She's not crafty. That's okay. She's still nice girl.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Happy weekend!
1. This morning I saw a guy at the Transfer Center that looked like the actor who played Clarence in It's a Wonderful Life. (I was going to add a link to IMDb, but my ISP is telling me they can't find the website! The world's gone mad!)
2. I don't understand why relationships have to be so complicated. This weekend should be...weird to say the least.
3. It was only 97 degrees out today. It was so hot it hurt.
4. Today was Tamale Friday at work. Our cleaning lady, N, is from Mexico. She and her sister make tamales on Friday morning and sell them in the office for $1 a piece. They make the traditional red and green chicken tamales, which are good. Last time they had refried bean tamales, which were sublime. Today they made me special black bean tamales. Oh my oh my, were they good. She didn't mention to me that there were big pieces of jalapenos in them. The first one didn't have a jalapeno in it, and it was yummy. The second one had a half of a jalapeno in it. Now, I like spicy food, so I'm okay with this. I just like to be warned before I eat spicy food. They were still really good. Later N told me the ones with the jalapenos were meant for the Indian girl in payroll who puts jalapenos on all of her food. N also surprised me with a cheese tamale, free of charge. It ws good but the bean ones were better.
5. Amy Number One got her hair did. She has quite a bit of grey. I'd guess she's in her early 40s. She gets it colored dark, black maybe and cut into a short bob. It's really cute, actually. And strangely enough, the same cut I'm going for with my hair.
6. Cast Away is on TNT right now. I love that movie. I love Tom Hanks.
7. I want to learn Russian so I can read Dostoyevsky in his native language.
8. Funquita, my afternoon 105 driver, was painting her nails while she was driving earlier this week. I let her supervisor know. She let me know by almost driving off without me yesterday. I was next to the bus, by the doors, and she drove off. Then she drove past my stop when we got to Raleigh. Nice, huh? She defines ghetto.
9. Save a couple quick errands tomorrow, I doubt I will be leaving the house all weekend. Except for a cook out on Sunday night. Otherwise, I'll be hanging out in the refrigerator all weekend.
2. I don't understand why relationships have to be so complicated. This weekend should be...weird to say the least.
3. It was only 97 degrees out today. It was so hot it hurt.
4. Today was Tamale Friday at work. Our cleaning lady, N, is from Mexico. She and her sister make tamales on Friday morning and sell them in the office for $1 a piece. They make the traditional red and green chicken tamales, which are good. Last time they had refried bean tamales, which were sublime. Today they made me special black bean tamales. Oh my oh my, were they good. She didn't mention to me that there were big pieces of jalapenos in them. The first one didn't have a jalapeno in it, and it was yummy. The second one had a half of a jalapeno in it. Now, I like spicy food, so I'm okay with this. I just like to be warned before I eat spicy food. They were still really good. Later N told me the ones with the jalapenos were meant for the Indian girl in payroll who puts jalapenos on all of her food. N also surprised me with a cheese tamale, free of charge. It ws good but the bean ones were better.
5. Amy Number One got her hair did. She has quite a bit of grey. I'd guess she's in her early 40s. She gets it colored dark, black maybe and cut into a short bob. It's really cute, actually. And strangely enough, the same cut I'm going for with my hair.
6. Cast Away is on TNT right now. I love that movie. I love Tom Hanks.
7. I want to learn Russian so I can read Dostoyevsky in his native language.
8. Funquita, my afternoon 105 driver, was painting her nails while she was driving earlier this week. I let her supervisor know. She let me know by almost driving off without me yesterday. I was next to the bus, by the doors, and she drove off. Then she drove past my stop when we got to Raleigh. Nice, huh? She defines ghetto.
9. Save a couple quick errands tomorrow, I doubt I will be leaving the house all weekend. Except for a cook out on Sunday night. Otherwise, I'll be hanging out in the refrigerator all weekend.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Today's observations
I haven't seen Babushko in about a week. Perhaps he took a trip for Easter. Where would he go?
The vet school has about a dozen new calves in their herd. I'm still waiting on confirmation, but it looks like they couldn't be any cuter. Most days when the bus drives by, they are all laying in the grass together. I also noticed that there is a Chik-Fil-A billboard within sight of this particular pasture. It's the kind of sign that has one cow statue standing on the other cow statue like they are painting the sign. I wonder if the cows see it. If they do, what do they think about it?
MSG (metro Sexual Guy) was on the bus tonight. Still rocking the bowl cut. He was wearing the ultimate London Hipster finery...yet another pair of Pumas (I'm going to start counting), his painted-on jeans, not one, but two track jackets, and a Manchester United shirt. Now I know it'll never work out between us. I've always been more of an Arsenal girl myself. He was sitting on the other side of the bus when we left RTP, but a couple stops later when the seat in front of me opened up, he moved over. The sassy bus driver, Funquita, was giving him a hard time because she accused him of sneaking on the bus. He then swiped his pass again and challenged her to find a passenger who would agree with her. Up until this point, it was amusing to watch their repartee, as it were. It became even more amusing when he turned around and tried to enlist my help to plead his case. Luckily I had pulled out my book and iPhone long before. I pretended not to notice. I am beginning to regret that decision. Next time I will engage him in a conversation and see what I can get out of him.
Lately, on certain busses, I've been smelling something. Not your usual BO, too much perfume, stale cigarettes, etc. Waffle cones. I've been smelling waffle cones. I'm not sure what that means. Am I going to have a seizure? Or maybe that's when you smell toast. Am I craving Ben and Jerry's? That may well be. It's bizarre. I can't figure it out. Certainly some old, rickety city bus with 200,000 miles on it wouldn't naturally smell like that. People don't usually smell like waffle cones. At least not the ones I know.
The vet school has about a dozen new calves in their herd. I'm still waiting on confirmation, but it looks like they couldn't be any cuter. Most days when the bus drives by, they are all laying in the grass together. I also noticed that there is a Chik-Fil-A billboard within sight of this particular pasture. It's the kind of sign that has one cow statue standing on the other cow statue like they are painting the sign. I wonder if the cows see it. If they do, what do they think about it?
MSG (metro Sexual Guy) was on the bus tonight. Still rocking the bowl cut. He was wearing the ultimate London Hipster finery...yet another pair of Pumas (I'm going to start counting), his painted-on jeans, not one, but two track jackets, and a Manchester United shirt. Now I know it'll never work out between us. I've always been more of an Arsenal girl myself. He was sitting on the other side of the bus when we left RTP, but a couple stops later when the seat in front of me opened up, he moved over. The sassy bus driver, Funquita, was giving him a hard time because she accused him of sneaking on the bus. He then swiped his pass again and challenged her to find a passenger who would agree with her. Up until this point, it was amusing to watch their repartee, as it were. It became even more amusing when he turned around and tried to enlist my help to plead his case. Luckily I had pulled out my book and iPhone long before. I pretended not to notice. I am beginning to regret that decision. Next time I will engage him in a conversation and see what I can get out of him.
Lately, on certain busses, I've been smelling something. Not your usual BO, too much perfume, stale cigarettes, etc. Waffle cones. I've been smelling waffle cones. I'm not sure what that means. Am I going to have a seizure? Or maybe that's when you smell toast. Am I craving Ben and Jerry's? That may well be. It's bizarre. I can't figure it out. Certainly some old, rickety city bus with 200,000 miles on it wouldn't naturally smell like that. People don't usually smell like waffle cones. At least not the ones I know.
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