How to make Al Pacino barf:

Thanks once again to the Phoenix city bus system, the birthplace of many great strokes of honorary genius, I was able to realize something today; when it comes to malodorous individuals, senior citizens are bar none, the most foul smelling creatures roaming God's green earth. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure your granny smells halfway decent after a shower, however I'd feel its fairly safe to wager that the majority of bus riders in the 70+ age bracket consider a quick wipe down with a wet nap an ample bathing regimen for the week. Whats more, I have it on good authority that the working title for Al Pacino's smash hit, "The Scent of a Woman" was actually, "The Scent of a Woman 25 and Under". Today's encounter with the elderly left me thoroughly nauseous and terrified of my impending birthday...another year closer to reeking of the odd cornucopia that is impending death. Ive taken the liberty, dear reader, of calculating the precise scent of a 70 year old woman. You can pile on the anti-aging cream and re-harness those breasts all you want, but you cant fight the truth...especially from a walker.

If you are 70 and above, you smell of the following:

Gravy

Baby powder

Raw eggs

An ace bandage

A jar of old pills

Urine

A canister of tennis balls

Sour strawberry yogurt

Two degrees of Louie Anderson

Picture me if you will, sitting next to an adorable little black lady on the bus today doing my best to ignore her nonsensical ramblings and simply bump corny white jams digitally into my own private ears. The truth is, this task proved too hard to master for ol' Squidge for two obvious---ish reasons. The first of which was that ol' girl was literally under 5 ft tall. Adding to her brain twisting appeal was what must have been two and a half full tubes of Krunch brand DEP designer styling gel that she had applied generously to her grapefruit sized head. Oh, and also she was fucking insane. Eventually I removed my headphones, conceding to her draw upon my attention at which point she began to tell me how last night she was at a party with "uh, you know, that white guy...uh, he's real funny...Louie Anderson, yup." Quite out of no where a tall, bony, long haired, gothtard boy boards our bus. In an instant she forgets all about Louie Anderson's Country Fried Buffet Party (safe assumption) and she screams out, "OH HELL NO! THAT BOY LOOKS LIKE A DRAG QUEEN, DON'T HE"?!

I started laughing pretty hard.

She offered me a bite of her half eaten tamale.

I declined.

Something tells me that she really was at a party with Louie Anderson last night though...also...didn't Louie Anderson die?

Quick post, slow pants.

A quick post today to make you aware of the "Slowest Pants in Town". These were spotted on the hips, thighs, and ankles of one of Phoenix's' finest. She was spotted on the number 29 bus shortly after 1pm. I challenge you, citizens of greater Phoenix to top my candid bus photos, if you dare. I dub today's glamour shot, Turtle Pants.

Bus Stop Humor

Okay, I'll give it to you. To all of you whimsical Phoenix commuters with your fancy cars, racing too and fro as you please, I'll admit it. Riding the bus can be irritating. But for every twenty-nine clamorous, malodorous and mind numbingly mundane bus rides a person must endure in any given month, there is without fail one refreshingly original experience to be had, and today was my day.

Sitting in the sliver of (94 degree) shade that Phoenix city bus stops provide, I allowed my focus to settle on the discussion taking place between two (hopelessly intoxicated) Navajo gentlemen well into their 60's. The older of the two gentleman has taken his half guzzled 40 oz. out of its brown paper bag, torn away a strip of paper about the size of his fist and is folding and making small rips in it. Noticing that I am watching, the man waves me over and shows me his creation. Far from any complex origami structure, he presents the approximation of a small man wearing a hat, with dangling legs. Pretty one dimensional, one might falsely presume...

"Pull the legs down gently", he tells me.

He had folded this flotsom scrap in such a way that when you tug on the mans feet a bit, a little paper boner pops out.

Goldmine.

(funny enough to get a bus stop full of sweaty people laughing)

Newly reassured of his comic prowess and possessing our devoted attention, he decides to press his luck by rambling through with a sloppy joke about Elizabeth Taylor.

(Remember the last time you heard a sad joke?)

Ultimately I think he forgot he was telling a joke at all and maybe thought he really had met Elizabeth Taylor once when he was a boy. Although I'm pretty sure he just got drunk and watched a movie with her in it the night before. He never did find his way back to the punchline on that one, which is sad because there is a real shortage of Elizabeth Taylor jokes these days. After that, I noticed his breath smelled like urine. Or maybe he did. So he burped and then the bus came.

Tape Face

On the bus today I sat next to a man with little pieces of scotch tape all over his face. He kept turning to me and asking, without moving his mouth..."is my face falling off?" It wasn't, but some of the tape was.

Meeting Heather.

The most amazing thing happened to me today on the bus to work. Riding the bus in Phoenix is always a treat and a chance to get some really good people watching in. Without a book or my ipod to entertain me today I found a seat near the front of the bus and gave the passengers a quick once over. Nothing overly exciting at first glance...but quickly something fascinating began to unfold. Sitting directly across from me was a lady in her early 40's. Plump, white, blonde, casually dressed. Nothing to write home about, I probably wouldnt have given her a second look save for the fact that I caught her at just the right moment. The woman to my right, Asian, blonde, Christian, was going on and on about some Bible passage and this lady across from us just kept shaking her head, which to me implied that she was disagreeing with her interpretation of said passage. Well she kept taking deep breaths, wringing her hands, and mouthing the words, "Its okay, its going to be okay" to herself. For a time I expected her to chime in with her two cents because she seemed to be getting pretty aggitated, but she never did. I began to consider that perhaps this woman has some sort of social anxiety and that this bus ride might be a really big deal for her. In any event, she managed to calm herself down and shortly thereafter I lost my interest. Bland, blonde, bore. Over it. I didnt really notice as we reached her stop, but as she stood up and passed by me to exit, she nervously blurted, "I'm Heather, by the way". I wasnt really sure that she was talking to me so I looked around to see if in fact this comment had been directed toward me. Determining that it was, I told Heather to have a great day and she quickly scuddled off the bus. I sort of laughed and looked around and said playfully to the girl next to me, "Ha, thats odd, Ive never met Heather before". Then from outside the bus, Heather popped her head back in and addressing me once more said, "You really should come visit me in Seattle this winter and I mean it." She took a few steps away from the bus and, changing her mind came back. "You can call me any time, any time". I cant help but wonder if Heather thought she knew me, or if she was confusing me with someone else. I like crazy Heather, probably as much as I liked the blonde Asian.