muni and the pussycat dolls

I keep forgetting to charge my mp3 player, and lately, this has forced to me to either listen to my busmates or zone out. Preferably, I trank out in my seat, staring out the window for my 41-minute trip. But when I don’t, I hear some pretty great stuff.

on my way home a few weeks ago, the woman next to me whipped out her cell phone:

woman on bus: yo, why you gotta talk ta me like dat, huh? why can chu talk like no adult, eh? what's wit chu? f*&k dat, man, don chu know i got bible study tonight?

Personally, I wanted to join in the conversation, strap on some thigh high black boots, wrap myself around the silver pole closest to the bus' back door, swing my hair (with long wavy extensions) in circles, and sing "don't chu wish your bible study partner was a saint like me. don chu...." but no, I just ground my nose farther into my book of the day. typical becca.

another evening, a bunch of girls were in the back of the bus, listening to a cd on a portable dvd player (i guess it's the new boombox?). the music was loud and, well, crass. I can’t believe I just used the word “crass.” there were young kids on the bus, and one 5-year-old boy asked his mom what a certain word from the song meant. this particularly quick-thinking parent responded: "honey, that's like a little furry kitty cat." boy, had that been me, i would have stammered, turned red, and said "uh... why don't you ask your father?" so if when i have kids, they're wearing super duper noise-canceling-out earplugs on the bus at all times. in fact, so will i.