No Belt and I'm an idiot.

Ok, I forgot my friggin belt this morning. I hate that I actually care about this sort of thing. Because I really don't care and when I find out that I do care I have to ask myself, "Do I really care about this?" and I say, "No, of course not! It is inconsequential." Then I think, "But I do care."

I don't need a belt to hold my pants up. Mostly I care because I'm just enough over weight that my gut curls the waist-band of my pants down ever so slightly and draws attention to the fact that my pants really are a 32 waist and I really am a 34 (don't challenge me on that). A belt prevents that from happening and I can continue my day with the delusion that no one really notices that my pants are a bit too small.

And SCENE!

Ok, that was stupid.

Now for some reviews:

STINKY PEOPLE ON THE BUS:
B- if they sit somewhere else
D- if I can smell them
Purgatory (if they sit next to me.)

ok, we are in a drought, so I understand the desire to conserve water by skipping a shower or two, but that doesn't mean you can't spray some Right Guard under your pits.


TINY ASS BUS SEATS:
F!

let us be reasonable. I am a smallish kinda guy. there is no good reason that when I sit down and someone sits down next to me that this person should be in my lap.

let's face it, America is not overflowing with skinny people. the bus seat should comfortably accommodate a medium build.


SLOW BUS DRIVERS:
SHIT-

I'm not the kind of guy who hauls ass to the bus. I park my car. I make sure I have my ID badge and my briefcase. I make sure I have my bus money. then I get out of my car and walk a brisk pace to the bus. some people run as though this is their one opportunity to catch the only bus to Atlanta, and the bus behind that bus is going straight to the level of hell where the devil probes your anus with broken promises.

I don't see the point. however, I also don't see the reason why the bus behind the bus I just got on should pass my buss on the Interstate. or the buss behind that one.


WAY TOO MUCH COFFEE:
WHOOHOOMANIFEELLIKEICOULDDOANYTHINGTODAYI'MGONNA-
GETALLMYWORKDONETHISMORNINGANDGETSTARTEDONNEWPR-OJECTSANDFINISHTHOSEUPTOOANDTHENI'LLCOMEHOMEANDMO-WTHELAWNANDCLEANTHEDENANDDOTHEDISHESANDMAKEDIN-NERANDGIVEREBECCAABACKRUBANDPAINTTHEKIDSROOMSAND-DEVELOPMYOWNCOMPUTERSOFTWAREANDBUILDATELESCOPEA-
NDDISCVERPLANETXANDCUREAIDSCAUSEIKNOWICANDOITAND-
HOLYCRAPIHAVETOPEESOBAD!


MY TRIP THIS MORNING:
Purgatory F! Shit- soaked in pee!

***

So there I was, on the slowest bus in the world, with a smelly man sitting next to me, or more appropriately, slightly on top of me, and I had to pee like the world depended on it. I felt like the little dutch boy holding back the waters of the ocean. Only the little dutch boy wasn't also carrying a stinky man wrapped in tweed on his lap. The little dutch boy had it easy.

the combo of the agoraphobia, my excruciating need to urinate and the man stink sent me into a hallucination. I was flying over Atlanta with Superman on one side and Jesus on the other. They were maintaining the appropriate distance from me.

Superman said, "Do you guys smell jasmine?"
And Jesus said, "That's my BO. I'm trying to conserve water."
Then Superman said, "I've been told my farts smell like caramel apples."
To which Jesus said, "You've been lied to, son."
Then Jesus turns to me and says, "Michael, it's time to let go of that burden."

Suddenly I feel wet.

I SNAP AWAKE AND CLINCH EVERYTHING! A total muscle lock down. But was I fast enough? Without looking down I discretely brush my hand over the crotch area. But I can't tell if it's wet. I moved my hand to fast. I go a little slower, but it's still too fast to tell if I'm wet. I don't want to move my hand too slowly over my nethers and have people wondering if I'm playing with myself, or worse; make them think I have crabs. Finally I rest my hand on my crotch as though this was a completely normal thing that everyone does and nobody better dare say a thing about it.

I didn't feel anything. PHEW! I relaxed. Then I pissed all over myself.

The good news is that I didn't ruin my nice leather belt. Because I forgot to wear it.


***addendum***
Ok, so I didn't pee on myself. But that seemed far funnier to me than to describe how a little balding guy went running down Andrew Young Blvd holding himself like a rap star and crying: Get out of my way, slow lady!