fake ging

So, I'm a ginger. It's a pretty sweet life, especially because I'm a good looking one. BUT bad thing is...I wasn't always this smoking hot. My gingy self went through several awkward stages....we're talking pale, chubby, freckly, and gangily arms and legs. Lets just say middle school was a rough time period in my life....Okay so back to my point- Why would anyone choose to be a fake ginger??? It baffles me. It takes some thick skin to walk around with this blazing stuff atop your head. You basically can wear: green and brown. AWESOME. Ya know what green and brown remind me of? Basically poop and boogers. SWEET LIFE. You have to avoid the sun or you will literally die. I was that kid running around the beach in a full t shirt with my bathing suit underneath coated in head to toe SPF 75 sunscreen, which had to be re-applied every 30 minutes. Can you fathom having to wear a t-shirt over your bathing suit that is covered inside and out with sand all day at the blazing hot beach??? UGH MISERABLE. THANKS MOM.

As you can tell I have some pent up anger stemming from this hellatious childhood I had. Why you may ask are we talking about gingers again?? OK OK back to the story and how this relates to DC public transit.  Friday, I saw two fake gingys on the bus. TWO on ONE bus. Crazy? I know. I feared I would be struck by lightning- which was totally plausible in that metal lunchbox on wheels. Both of them had hair that was so orange I was convinced it was dyed with a Kool Aid packet (that's orange drink, for Fran.) I could only capture a picture of one of the fake gingys from the crows nest. I'm sad I missed the other one because she had this super awesome cat-lady purse with actual colorful cats on it. I'm surprised it wasn't packed full of  food, treats, and toys for the like 17+ cats she has at home. But sorry for building up your anticipation, here is the fake ginger I documented:

Fake gingy in natural habitat.

Scientific name: Wannabe-est Gingi-est.

Is this picture blurry you ask? No this women's hair actually resembled that of a troll. Like the oranged haired ones you get around Halloween-time. I was concerned for her and her decision making skills. Who decides to be a fake ginger? I mean the only complements you get are from men born circa 1912. "Ya know you have the prettiest red hair. Just like my wife used to have." AWESOME, My hair color was popular a century ago, circa dinosaur time. FML.

Well good luck to these two fake gingys. I wish them well. May they experience the pain and torment I have had my entire life. I'll just consider them creepy for now.

Bus driver....high on life.....

So this morning I rush out the door, dressed all professionally with my rainbows on and my stilettos in my bag (my boss thinks these shoes I can barley walk in are fabulous by the way, but that's only because she herself wears stripper shoes on a daily basis.) I'm on my street at the point where I can visibly see my bus stop and yep...there she goes...the damn bus I usually take...zooming off into the distance without my ginger self. SHUCKS. Some would say...why didn't you run after the bus, ya know..try and flag it down? UMMM NO. I will never run after a bus, EVER in my life. Its on my very short list of things I refuse to do. Have you ever seen anyone look remotely attractive while RUNNING after public transit? Nope---didn't think so. So I chill at the bus stop looking like a hood rat in my rainbows and Ann Taylor Loft ensemble. I grab the paper, jam out to Ke$ha on my i-pod, you know, the usual.

A couple buses later here comes my bus. Score. I pick a seat usually on the elevated section near the back. It used to do this because it was farthest seat away from the old people, babies and people with carts, but now that I am writing this blog it gives me an ample viewing platform. I call it the creepster crow's nest, please see below:

So I'm just chilling reading my massive CPA study book that I like to carry around with me due to the fact that it's the size of a GD phonebook, and thus eludes to me being smart...Illusion, baha!  As I'm highlighting away I notice that this bus driver is awful friendly with EVERYONE. I, being not the most chipper person in the morning, can barley squeeze out a 'good morning' as I swipe my SMART card  and get raped by the DC PT system again. A buck thirty five sets a sister back, OKAY! I gots bills and mouths to feed. Shit.

Ok, so before I get into this next part, Id like to give a little background on my bus route....Those of you not from DC or Arlington, just pay attention, Ill get to my point eventually. My bus does this little 'trick' where it merges onto Washington Blvd right in front of Ft. Myer every day. OKAY- Washington Blvd is not like some gravel road...its a major F-ing highway. OHHH and did I mention the merge lane doesn't really exist, so its more like the bus just trys to haul ass onto the highway in the middle of DC rush hour traffic. So basically I am in this metal lunchbox that goes from 0-60 in ohhh say..10 minutes, 'darting' out into traffic. I literally think I am going to die every single morning.

So about the time we approach this death trap, I mean merge zone, the bus driver ANNOUNCES that he either wants us to sing 'we can do it,' or chant 50 to encourage our metal lunchbox onto this raging highway....(because our main goal is to reach hwy 50 which takes us to the city)....THEN PROCEEDS to lead the bus in a chant...'50, 50, 50....'


And yes, people are actually doing this.....


WTF bus driver...It is 7:30 the the GD morning dude. Have you lost your F-ing mind??? The glares from the snobs of Arlington were priceless. I guess he was trying to get the bus as pumped up for the day as he was...however, people reading the Post and cracking out on their crackberry were not amused.  I just found it ultra creepy and material for this here bloggy blog....


Also, if you aren't busy check out this website my mom sent me: shitmykidsruined.com  Thanks mom....I think..

Swan Maker takes blog's v-card

So it’s a fact, DC PT is CREEPY! Creepy enough that tonight - May 18th, 2010 I have decided to write a blog about it. I think actually my roommates are really tired of hearing about the nutjobs I observe on a daily basis, so I am resorting to writing about it in this blog.



I live in Arlington.....well Ballston.....well....let’s just say far enough from the Ballston metro that no one speaks English. There’s this sweet bus line that takes me from my apartment in Tijuana to Downtown D.C.--We're talking right in the middle of Midwestern touristville. White House, Museums, Verizon Center- the works. (I am not going to mention the bus number because my mom will get all Nancy Grace on my ass....She's already asked me if my name was going to be linked to this blog-'NO mom, just my social security #, address, and mother's maiden name.......UGH') So I take this bus every morning and also every night unless I work past 7pm, because the line stops after 7pm. Apparently some folks aren't slaves to their job......aka get off at quittin' time-5pm. If I work after 7pm I take the metro and then a bus back to good old Tijuana.


ANYWAYS- so the man that inspired this entire blog writing shenanigan sat right beside me on the bus this evening. He plopped down right beside me and began working feverishly at something....At first I disregarded his antics, as I am fully aware of the jokers that ride this bus on a daily basis. I sneaked a peek to see what he is doing. He is folding pieces of paper together. I continue to be all Harriet the Spy- like and watch him from the corner of my eye - while I text my friend Fran, who I’m sorry to say has been texted , in detail, every time I encounter something creepy on DC PT. My first inclination was that this dude was making one of those paper fortune tellers-like remember from the 5th grade? Yeah-Sorry you picked blue-Your going to marry the kid with the lazy eye. DANG IT!


So moral of the story is...this guy wasn't making a paper fortune teller, but, yep that’s right people, PAPER SWANS....I found this odd...as he didn't look Asian to me....After his first paper swan he proceeded on swan # 2 (that’s numero dos in Spanish!)...I don't know why I found this non Asian feverishly making paper swans weird-For him it must have been  a regular Tuesday night- kicking back, making my swans on the bus to Mexico City. After two seats in a row freed up he moved…I guess I was taking up valuable swan folding elbow space. SORRY …geeeez!


Well thank you swan maker for taking my blogging v-card. Creeper.