Bus-lane To Hell.

I will admit it. I cant spell or use grammar. Its just something I am incapable of. So I get Beka (read her blog here) to proof read my shit. From time to time I get messages from here on my posts. I thought this one was particularly funny so here it is. Posted with all Beka's comments in tact.
Green writing is my replies.
Enjoy


ALL RED TEXT IS MY COMMENTARY ON THIS BLOG SINCE I'M NOT GOING TO POST IT.
DELETE IT BEFORE HITTING PUBLISH POST, OR FEAR THE WRATH OF MY TAKEOVER. I will post it because I do not fear it I welcome it!
So inter-friends (combo word in the first line. Off to a good start). How are we all?

If the answer was good, then good I am glad, if not, that sucks, but what do you want me to do about it? Seriously, I’m a dude at the other end of a computer filling in time until my boss gives me something to do, or Hugh notices I have stopped thinking about the task at hand and am in fact writing a blog.

But that is beside the point. Today I want to tell you all about my recent trip to Wellington for the sevens, because I can and it was fun and you should all be jealous.

So it all started with, of all things, a bus journey. 12 fucking hours of bus journey to be exact. It was a little excessive to say the least.

On the bus I planned to keep a diary, writing my thoughts and feelings about the trip, I thought it would be entertaining. Me being bored, my mind wandering off into crazy realms, who would of thought I would end up just bitching.


So here it is: The bus has a fucked up Nike tick for a smile. You are owned by consumerism, admit it. Fuck you I can't work paint!

He looks happy. He was happy because he was about to eat my soul.
Also because I couldn't make the face mean enough. Picture evil eyes, maybe some demons
perhaps a cigarette and some tattoos (not cool tattoos though, douchey shit tattoos.)

8 am: Just got on, ready for a long day, the driver looks like Wormtail from Harry Potter.

9-10 am: Consisted of such witticisms as “wow I have only been on here for an hour/2 hours" and "Hope we can stop for the toilet soon”.

11 am: A guy fell asleep on me.

12 noon: I got a sandwich when we stopped.

12-4 pm: More bitching about how long it’s been.

5 pm (hold onto your socks cause this is a doozy): The guy woke up.

6-7 pm: I got a new person sitting next to me. Judging the amount of Australian merch she had on she was from there, or she got one hell of a discount at the Australia store, probably after giving the guy behind the counter favours. I got no favours so assumed it was the first one.

8 I got off the bus... At the wrong stop. Not because I am an idiot but because the driver is.  He drove past my stop happily unawares. Probably smiling and whistling, the bastard.

So that was the trip down there. It was like you were there, I know. See why I don’t like covering actual topics that happened to me in real life? Because you're a depressing bastard. Much like House, but without the limp. At least I put a positive spin on the things that happen to me in real life... well, I do sometimes. Beka. You so emo.

I did however, later that night, while drunk, write a note that said, “All Blacks is 3 strips”.  Its some sort of code I am sure. It has a deeper meaning. If you know the deeper meaning let me know. But of course I did fall asleep in a cupboard mere minutes after so I don’t know. The deeper meaning is the All Blacks are sponsored by Adidas. Sorry to kill your buzz. That could of been it. I didnt think of that. But I am sure my drunken mind is capable of higher thought.... maybe not, I did sleep in a cupboard.

Maybe I am a prophet, like the new (tries to choose the religion that will offend the least people. Who do Amish worship? They can’t get pissed at me, computer-less fools) Adam you haven't finished this sentence. Like the new what? Your face.

Until next time.