Buses, Butts, Foreshadowing, and Fancy Words.

Sometimes when typing “regards” I accidentally type “retards” without noticing.

That is why I always sign my work emails “Have a great day!”

This is a good view of what it’s like inside my head. These thoughts just come out of frickin’ NOWHERE.

Here is some lovely poetry that I sent Boyfriend via text while I was on a bus going from DC to NYC this past Sunday. Let me preface this by telling you that 1) I don’t do well just sitting down for a long amount of time while bored and 2) I don’t handle boredom all that well and 3) Patience may well be a virtue, but I never claimed to be virtuous.

Also, I have a flat butt and it provides zero cushioning and my butt had been numb since Maryland.

Boyfriend and I were texting, and he encouraged me to stop thinking about how annoying buses are, and maybe distract myself by writing poetry or something. First, he asked me how it was going. I said, “Boring.” then made fun of him for missing out on challah bread french toast that morning, then added “Die, bus. But after I get off of you.”

He said, “Oh, relax. Contemplate the meaning of life. Look up new games on the tablet. Muse on how awesome your boyfriend is.”

I did muse on his awesomeness for a moment. Until I remembered I was on a bus and my butt hurt.

I responded, “There is nothingness in contemplation. The bus has succeeded in sucking every meaningful and beautiful thing out of my world. My butt will never be whole again, not while I am riding this metallic monstrosity.”

...I have a penchant for drama when I get bored.

So he suggested I write some poetry. Something I enjoy, am fairly good at, and do often, when inspiration strikes. This was not a inspired set of verses. They are, however, entertaining and were very spur of the moment (as you can well see).

Here, I give you the most poignant verse and lines of our generation. The most moving of all poetry coming out of twenty-somethings in 2013. Someday these words will grace the texts of writing classes everywhere. They shall be chiseled into building faces and passed down orally between generations.

“Roses are red

Buses are gray.

Dear Jesus get me out of here.

To thee I pray.”

“Violets are purple

Not actually blue

I can’t feel my butt.

Can you?”

“Daisies are happy

Sunflowers, sunny,

I’m so hungry now

I’d eat bread and honey.

But not that gross bread with nuts and crap in the actual

Bread and not just on the crust.”

“Patience is a virtue

Or so I am told

But I never quite learned it.

I broke the mold.”

These were all sent as rapid fire texts, one right after the other.

I stopped for awhile, basking in the glow of my amazing words forming poems of beauty, which the world has never seen.

The I began feeling hopeful, as we were almost back in NY! I sent an excited text to Boyfriend about being so close.

He responds “Hopefully the tunnel won’t be too backed up.”

I swear, he says that stuff just to mess with me. Guess what? THE TUNNEL WAS BACKED UP. Thanks, jerkface! I could have sharkpunched the troll look right off his face for that dire foreshadowing.

To return to my previous dramatic mood, once I was in the tunnel, I sent Boyfriend “I’m in the tunnel. If it floods and I drown slowly, you would be sad.”

He agreed that he would be sad, but offered no reassurances as to my safety.

I finally got home. Eventually, I found my way to dreamland and into work the next day, and all is well.

Moral of the story: boyfriends are sorcerers who foresee crappy traffic and don’t even tell you that you won’t drown a sad, slow death in a tunnel under NYC.

Side note: Thanksgivikkah with my family was awesome. Presents are good, family is great. Drinking is nice. At one point, my brother, sister, and I all got a little tiny teensy bit drunk, chased each other around the house and wrestled. My brother threw me on the floor and “tickled” me. I put tickled in quotes because when I was a little kid, he would actually tickle me until I cried, and in this case, it was less of a tickle and more of a painful poking me in the sides repeatedly. I HAD BRUISES THE NEXT MORNING. And my poor sister had no idea why her shoulder hurt. I had an awesome time telling them how she threw herself over the banister on the stairs when bro and I were wrestling because she was trying to “help.”

….she never explained who she was trying to help. Brother or me? CONUNDRUM.

One time, I used the word “conundrum” in regular conversation with some coworkers, and one of them (not the sharpest stick) had been drinking and at the top of his lungs, he screamed out “DON’T USE YOUR FANCY JEW WORDS ON ME!”

It was hysterical.