Several things came to my attention this week: Matt occasionally reads my blog (which I did not realize), he feels that my post about financial concerns portrayed him to be a bit of an idiot, and it turns out I may have over exaggerated his spending habits. I was informed that the lunches he buys at work cost somewhere in the neighbourhood of $3.60, so my suggestions of taking a $3.29 can of Chunky soup for lunch fell upon deaf ears for good reason. A freshly prepared meal for 30 cents more? I’d do it too. And it’s worth noting that cigarettes are now being purchased in carton quantities. Compromises are being made, and I feel good about it. Obviously we’re never going to be exactly the same type of money-handlers, but the important thing is that we work together. Living, working and traveling together over the last few years, there’s one thing I’ve learned: once we hit our stride, we make a great team. As for the part about looking like an idiot, I think it’s safe to say that anyone who knows Matt, knows he’s not an idiot. And at the very least, anyone who knows me, knows that I would never date an idiot (again). Besides, if the only complaint I have in the relationship is the occasional money-based concern, then I’d say things are pretty damn good. And they are.
But before I start sounding like a teenage girl gushing like a fucking idiot about her boyfriend, I’d like to move on, since internet justice has been served here: Matt has been absolved of some of his spending sins and I had to admit on the internet that I was wrong about something, which it turns out I am able to do. Now let’s instead address an issue that is always causing me grief: the Saskatoon transit services. And this time it’s not about shitty routes or late buses, since that’s already been covered. No, no, today my hatred has to do with the other bus riders. The state of the transit system in summertime is depressing. At least between September and April, the bus is mostly populated with students, but in the summertime, it seems to consist of:
- single moms with bad dye jobs
- mouth-breathing scab eaters
- people with a disgusting phlegmy cough (who never cover their mouth and missed all the H1N1 “Dracula” cough tutorials)
- sketch pads
- recent immigrants and seniors
The last bunch don’t offend. Recent immigrants just make me want to high five/congratulate them and then start a conversation that will eventually lead to an opportunity to advise them to wear deodorant. And old people have two equally entertaining subcategories: really angry and bitter or jolly and talkative. I love their stories. The angry ones have the same contempt for today’s generation that I share, and the jolly ones have memorized several impressively large family trees, and the layout of Saskatoon between 1950 and 1990. Their knowledge is mostly useless, and at time confusing, but occasionally entertaining. I often forget my mp3 player, so I spend a lot of time shaking my head in disapproval as I hear about some old lady’s former neighbour’s grandson’s girlfriends with face piercings. Plus, if there’s old people on the bus, that means there are some that don’t drive. Which means that they don’t fall into the group of seniors to hate (affectionately termed Whiteheads, by Lojo). So at least we can be happy that they’re still around to regale us with tales of back in their day, but aren’t driving around taking out light posts, small children or liquor stores.
Some of these nice old people come to the fruit stand, too. And once they get their complaining about the high prices out of the way, I am usually so bored and starved for a distraction that I will strike up a conversation about anything, just to fill 20 minutes of my 10 hour day. But the high prices are good for one thing: they usually trigger nostalgic feelings of a better time, which leads nicely into a bit of a rant. Days spent in Confederation are boring.