Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
There were a couple* TMI posts I had been kicking around when
projectile divine intervention stepped in. I mean this story literally happened this week. Read mine and then head on over to Lilu’s to read even more of them (The clicky clicky abovey abovey)
I’ll set the scene just a little bit. It was a sunny Tuesday morning in Cleveland and the snow was starting to melt a little bit. I of course had to be at work at 1pm. I take the bus and luckily the bus I catch to get there picks me up almost exactly in front of my building. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (Star Wars high five) I use to care and would take the early bus. These days I take the one that will get me there right before its time to start.** Maybe the mindset I was in is key to the story or maybe I just wanted to throw in a Star Wars reference.
Anytmi I got out there about 10 minutes before the bus would arrive. Now as I’m checking (for probably the 80th time) to make sure I’ve got the needed fare I see Rodimus (name I gave him) standing in the bus stop. Now Rodimus is a black dude probably in his early 50’s. He’s probably 6’2 but always slumping over. He’s always in jeans and black tee’s. Now why do I call him Rodimus you ask?
You people really are nosey.
I call him Rodimus after Rodimus Prime***.
A side note I hated Rodimus (Prime not the old man at the stop.)
Anyautobot, I called him that because he wears a black hoodie with pink and orange flames on the chest and well Rodimus has those. See? Makes sense right? Shut up. So Rodimus and I converse now and then. We’d talk about all sorts of things, but mostly books and sports. Most of them time I didn’t even mind the chatting. He was always respectful and if I was reading or on the phone he’d leave me alone.
Now Tuesday I was checking out twitter on my phone when I got to the bus stop. I could tell right away that Roddy had tied one on. I think that is my favorite way of saying someone is drunk of all time. I mean I could smell the booze from like 3 steps from him. So as I get there he’s swaying back and forth from one side of the stop to the other so I decided to stand just outside of it. He was smoking and swaying and then I guess he noticed I was there. So with this little bit of dialogue imagine I’m giving the arbitrary answers, he’s swaying like crazy and is talking with one hell of a SLUR.
Rodimus: Hey my man. How you doing? Good. Good. You know…You know…I thought of something after you left the other day…were we talking? Yeah. So I had something to tell you…It’ll come back to me…it will…I….it. Was…oh I know…I know…
And then he puked. He just threw up. It mostly went all over his beard and his hands. There was a bunch of it on the ground of course. It reeked of gin and was a scary blackish orange color. It was all stuck on his beard and face, clinging even. He didn’t seem to mind at all. He just kept trying to suck every little bit he could out of that tiny cig butt, with puke covered fingers. I thought about taking a picture of the vom for this post but he was there and an old lady hobbled up. I failed, but that is the effort I go to you for you my loyal readers. I promise the next time something like this happens I will procure pictures.
He never said what it was he “remembered” so maybe what he wanted to tell me was vomit?
*Both about sex.
**That little tidbit had nothing to do with anything. Like Glenn Beck I wasted your time America
***A link to a pic of Rodimus Prime