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Postcard from Commuting HellFebruary 19, 2006... I've been commuting two-and-a-half hours each way, every day for the past two weeks. As a consequence, I haven't had much time or energy to devote to the blog. The worst of the ordeal is almost over, though: on Tuesday, I move into a fetid dump of my own in The Biggest Smoke. The Mothers - Fifty-FiftyI had to shit so bad on the bus Friday night, I thought I was gonna sprout a tail. Didn't help that I was reading an article in Now magazine about an un-named celebrity whose favourite form of post-coital repose is laying in bed with an unwitting paramour and a steaming, fresh mound of poo... So, why didn't I just get up out of my seat and take a dump, you ask? Well, unless I am mistaken, Greyhound Canada has a monopoly on the route, so there is little compelling them to keep their buses clean. I mean, I've seen a lot of Greyhound buses over the past two weeks and there ain't been one clean enough for my shit. Seriously! In one motherfucker, there was no tap on the faucet in the john. In another, every seat--and I mean every single, fucking one--had black stains all over it. Greyhound puts buses on the road with seat backs that won't stay up and reading lights that don't work, too. Don't even get me started on their on-time performance--particularly not on their "express" trips. You know, the "express" trips with stops (!) along the way... There are bus lines in poor countries that out-class Greyhound Canada by country mile. I mean, I took a bus in Brazil once, on which a video tape of The Mask was played and free coffee was provided. And that motherfucker was clean, too... So that's why I didn't just get up out of my seat and take a dump. That, plus the fact that there were three young hotties sitting in the row next to the john at the time. I mean, if they knew I shitted, and that my shit stank, well... I think you know what I mean. Permadink | | |
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