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This Is Why I Drive!

3:24 PM

Yesterday I woke up in a really good mood.I just knew that it would be a great day,and it was.Until I got to work and realized that my co-workers had left the damn heat on all night.I felt like I was in hell.I just knew that Satan was going to come from the back of the store and say, "welcome to hell Alana." However,that did not happen.So as the day went on,it seemed to be getting back to normal,customers were being nice,I was avoiding my manager who has a mustache thicker than my father's,and time was flying and it was almost time for me to go home.


So the time comes for me to clock out and go home.On this particular day I didn't drive so I had to take the bus home...three buses to be exact(I live too damn far from work, and I need to find another job).Anyway,the bus rides are going smoothly,all of my buses are coming in a timely manner,and all the while I'm talking to my cousin...well listening to my cousin talk on the phone.Then the bullshit enters stage right(or something like that).I'm listening to my ipod,minding my own business,and something tells me not to look up,but of course I don't listen.So I look up and make eye contact with someone who will become a pain in my ass.When I made eye contact with him,I knew what was coming.I continued on with my music.Solange was singing about being the one,and I was trying to avoid being his one.

The guy walks up to me and I hear him say excuse me,but I didn't want to talk to him so I ignored him.Most men leave you alone when you don't respond,right?Well,he wasn't like most men,this fool tapped me on my shoulder.I take my headphones off and I look at him,and he asks me the standard question when boy meets girl.

Do you have a boyfriend?

I want to say yes,because then he would leave me alone,right?But I don't because my mouth starts moving before my head can come up with the lie.I'm a bad liar,I tell the truth even when I know a lie is the best answer.Wait...what?Anyway,my phone rings,so I answer it because even if it's a bill collector or work,or Santa calling telling me he needs me at the North Pole,anything is better than talking to this guy who is now free styling like he's Jay-Z in the Marcy Projects.It's my mother asking me to spell something for her,but I'm so distracted that I spelled the word wrong.Finally,I get off the phone with my mother and the guy taps me on the shoulder but when I turn around he's not looking at me.So this grown man is playing kindergarten games. By now my frustration level is off the charts,and he decides to stop playing these bald headed games and asked me my name.Again,I try to lie and say my name is Shaniqua,but I tell him my real name and cringe.Now all of this is happening while I'm waiting for my last bus to let us on,but I can no longer take this so I decide to send out HELP!Text messages to the people who love me.My Blackberry beeps and it's a text from one of the two people I'd sent HELP! to.The text read:

HELP?Yes.

Wait...no really wait.What the hell?Who does that when they get a help text?Apparently the people in my life.But the other person that I sent a text to called me,and she talked to me so that I could ignore him,but he just wouldn't let me be great.I finally just gave up,got off the phone and talked to him.The bus then lets us on and I did what Rosa Parks wouldn't do,I moved to the back of the bus,and what happens?This stranger bitch sits next to me.I give him my name,so now he won't stop using it...

So Alana,how old are you?

Alana,you look a lot younger than twenty four.

Alana,can I have your phone number or I'll give you mine?

He then looks at his friend and says: Man,Alana she bad huh?

I'm certain I was supposed to be flattered,but I wasn't.I asked him how old he was,and then the shit just went downhill from there,he starts counting...on his FINGERS before telling me that he's twenty seven!The bus driver then decides that she's going to go through a tunnel,and this idiot lays his head on my shoulder!Sir,you don't know me,so back the hell up.I ain't got time for this foolishness.After that, he again asks me for my number.I pull out a piece of paper and I start to write down a fake number,I mean I wanted to give him the number to the reject hotline.But knowing him,he knows that number by heart since I'm sure any number he's ever gotten from a woman has been that number.I mean really,who would really give him their real number?Oh...I did *hangs head in shame*I tried to write the wrong number,but my hands started writing my real number before my head could tell it to lie. :-(

So now,I have to watch my phone for any numbers I don't recognize,do you know how frustrating that is?This is why I don't do the bus,And THIS is why I drive.

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