Reasons why you should, or SHOULDNT, ride the school bus
This is another little story out of my wonderfully boring and life-less life.
Im sure that everyone at least once in their lief has rode a bus, and, hey, if you havent, man you dont know how lucky you are. Where buses are concerned, I admit that ive only rode on a school bus, but let me tell you, I CRINGE every time I see a one of those things.
First off, my mother went to school with my bus driver, whos name I will not mention, but anyways, long story, well, short story even shorter : She hated me down to the dirt under my big toe. I swear, if I even SNEEZED, she would write me up. She wrote me up for taking off my shoes. TAKING OFF MY SHOES. And whats worse? It was my first day riding the bus that the high school, junior high, and middle schoolers rode on. I didnt even know that taking your shoes off was bad, but obviously, someone forgot to tell me that.
Ok, so you think, "So your bus driver hates you, whats new? ALL bus drivers are sadistic farts that hate children." Thats not true. The first bus driver I ever had was a saint, and will forever be respected in my memory. If only I could remember her name....
It wasnt just the bus driver. It was the children on the bus that took the low fat cream puffs and spring rolls (Just for you, Kimi chan). The seating order went as usual, youngest kids in the front, older and highschoolers in the back. Of course, since my bus driver was a complete bitch, she didnt care where anyone sat. And let me tell you, im not just anyone. Nope. Im her arch enemys daughter, meaning that I hold a very special place in that small, lumpy chest of hers where her heart should have been, but by some scientific miracle of the sorts of which I know not, its not there.
So, poor, little old me, who was (and still is) a grand, honor roll, teachers pet, and incredibally uncool, nerdy, clumsy loser, of a student, had an assigned seat, and when I would even LOOK at another seat, I would be told to turn around, face forward, shut my mouth, keep my hands and feet to myself (yes, even if I DID have them to myself), and stop giving her attitude.
So now that you hopefully understand that the bus driver hated me to a point that was ridiculously unfair, let me continue on why I hate school buses. The students.
Theres the typical people, of course. Preppy people, jocks, bi polar, stoners, pill heads, sluts, whores, perverted minded people, emos, goths, and everyone inbetween. I sat (another sure sign that the damned bus driver hated me) across from a bi polar.....person?, behind a jock, diagonal to a prep, infront of a stoner and a whore, and diaginal to a druggie and a pervert. (despite the fact that this has been like, 4 years ago, I still remember it all vividly, and their names). It was in the back. And of course, you have people back there who will open the windows and smoke a joint. I have nothing against the stoners, because some are them are cool, and hold a lot of power when it comes down to it. But Im not really into smoking, drinking, and the hole 'get-high-or-piss-drunk-stoned-and-dont-remember-what-you-did-to wake-up-with-a-broke-are-and-missing-kidney'. So I wasnt overly amused to have smoke blowing in my face.
How, you may wonder, if the bus driver kept her eyes on me the entire time, did she not see the person behind me, smoking a joint in clear veiw? Your guess is as good as mine, even though I bet mines better, since I know the answer, but will let you try and figure it out on your own.
So anyways, another fun story that is disturbing, yet memorable. A guy named Ryan sat in the very back of the bus. He was a cross between a pervert, stoner, and a jock. Interesting fellow. A bit bi polar, but who isnt? Well, he thought that mooning people was just the shits, and didnt realize that the car behind the bus which he mooned, was owned, and driven, by his loving mother that could recognized his dimply white little ass anywhere and anytime. Very interesting turn out, that was.
And there are many more adventures that I will randomly remember and jot down that come from the dark depths from within the large yellow school bus, but the medication that Im on has me half bitchy half high, and hungry. And a half bitch, half high, and hungry me is not a pretty me. So until whenever I feel like getting on again, farewell.
Im sure that everyone at least once in their lief has rode a bus, and, hey, if you havent, man you dont know how lucky you are. Where buses are concerned, I admit that ive only rode on a school bus, but let me tell you, I CRINGE every time I see a one of those things.
First off, my mother went to school with my bus driver, whos name I will not mention, but anyways, long story, well, short story even shorter : She hated me down to the dirt under my big toe. I swear, if I even SNEEZED, she would write me up. She wrote me up for taking off my shoes. TAKING OFF MY SHOES. And whats worse? It was my first day riding the bus that the high school, junior high, and middle schoolers rode on. I didnt even know that taking your shoes off was bad, but obviously, someone forgot to tell me that.
Ok, so you think, "So your bus driver hates you, whats new? ALL bus drivers are sadistic farts that hate children." Thats not true. The first bus driver I ever had was a saint, and will forever be respected in my memory. If only I could remember her name....
It wasnt just the bus driver. It was the children on the bus that took the low fat cream puffs and spring rolls (Just for you, Kimi chan). The seating order went as usual, youngest kids in the front, older and highschoolers in the back. Of course, since my bus driver was a complete bitch, she didnt care where anyone sat. And let me tell you, im not just anyone. Nope. Im her arch enemys daughter, meaning that I hold a very special place in that small, lumpy chest of hers where her heart should have been, but by some scientific miracle of the sorts of which I know not, its not there.
So, poor, little old me, who was (and still is) a grand, honor roll, teachers pet, and incredibally uncool, nerdy, clumsy loser, of a student, had an assigned seat, and when I would even LOOK at another seat, I would be told to turn around, face forward, shut my mouth, keep my hands and feet to myself (yes, even if I DID have them to myself), and stop giving her attitude.
So now that you hopefully understand that the bus driver hated me to a point that was ridiculously unfair, let me continue on why I hate school buses. The students.
Theres the typical people, of course. Preppy people, jocks, bi polar, stoners, pill heads, sluts, whores, perverted minded people, emos, goths, and everyone inbetween. I sat (another sure sign that the damned bus driver hated me) across from a bi polar.....person?, behind a jock, diagonal to a prep, infront of a stoner and a whore, and diaginal to a druggie and a pervert. (despite the fact that this has been like, 4 years ago, I still remember it all vividly, and their names). It was in the back. And of course, you have people back there who will open the windows and smoke a joint. I have nothing against the stoners, because some are them are cool, and hold a lot of power when it comes down to it. But Im not really into smoking, drinking, and the hole 'get-high-or-piss-drunk-stoned-and-dont-remember-what-you-did-to wake-up-with-a-broke-are-and-missing-kidney'. So I wasnt overly amused to have smoke blowing in my face.
How, you may wonder, if the bus driver kept her eyes on me the entire time, did she not see the person behind me, smoking a joint in clear veiw? Your guess is as good as mine, even though I bet mines better, since I know the answer, but will let you try and figure it out on your own.
So anyways, another fun story that is disturbing, yet memorable. A guy named Ryan sat in the very back of the bus. He was a cross between a pervert, stoner, and a jock. Interesting fellow. A bit bi polar, but who isnt? Well, he thought that mooning people was just the shits, and didnt realize that the car behind the bus which he mooned, was owned, and driven, by his loving mother that could recognized his dimply white little ass anywhere and anytime. Very interesting turn out, that was.
And there are many more adventures that I will randomly remember and jot down that come from the dark depths from within the large yellow school bus, but the medication that Im on has me half bitchy half high, and hungry. And a half bitch, half high, and hungry me is not a pretty me. So until whenever I feel like getting on again, farewell.