Fat, bearded, drooling man, take 2

There’s standing room only on the 8:30 am bus, and the aforementioned man is standing in my usual spot, propping himself up on the overhead bars. He sucks wind, rears his head back, and unleashes a deep, throaty sneeze. Unlike many other regulars, he bothers to cover his mouth, but it makes very little difference. Inspecting his hand, the man quickly recognizes that the contents of his left lung–in full–have wound up between his fingers. Having found myself in previous situations on more than one occasion, I expected the man to cast a furtive glance, make sure nobody was watching, and make use of a vacant pocket to wipe. But no. He latches onto the bar as if nothing has happened. I’m fairly certain that I’ll contract tuberculosis at some point in the near future.

Get ready for the summer chili cookoff!

I’m standing at my stop, talking to a new friend. She’s telling me about some of her strange encounters with neighborhood men (and there are some freaky ones lurking about) when a worker from a nearby construction company drives into the adjacent lot in his Ford F-350 Superduty.

“Excuse me,” the man says with a serious drawal.

I walk towards his truck. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. I wanna talk to the lil’ lady over there.”

I turn around, shrug, and say nothing. My friend walks up to the truck, a little nervously. This guy has bothered her on several occasions before.

“Um. Hi?”

“Do you like chili?” he almost yells.

“Uh, no. Why would you ask that?”

“Well, me and my boys are planning a chili cookoff, and we’re looking for beautiful women to serve chili.”

“Yeah…no thanks.”

“Well alright. You’re gonna miss out.”

Based on what I’ve heard about the Charlottesville dating scene, I’m guessing that this passes for a good pickup line here? I guess I admire the guy for trying, but sweet Jesus, has any woman ever been wooed with promises of stewed meat?

It’s encounters like these that make me glad to be out of the singles scene.

Sparks is fit for round-the-clock consumption

A new guy is standing at the bus stop. (I’ve seen him before, leading a wine tasting at a local shop. My girlfriend remarked at the time that he looked like a serious alcoholic, due to the web of broken blood vessels at the end of his nose and flushed cheeks.) He’s drinking Sparks malt liquor/energy drink at 8:15 and has two more on deck in the bag he’s holding. Another guy walks up. He’s a morning drinker as well, and pops open a Bud tallboy.

Man#2: “Man, what’s that you’re drinking?”
Man#1: “This? Aw, it’s nothing. Just an energy drink to get me ready for work.”

There’s nothing quite like the spectacle of one alcoholic lying to another alcoholic about his morning dose.

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