1. Wednesday, October 17, 2001

    mexican girl on the bus this morning 

    sat next to me with her Americas history book full of pink highlighter. somehow we start talking. some busses are noisy, most are dead quiet. i like the noisy ones. the guy in the back of the bus had nu-metal blaring out of his headphones and the whole bus could hear it. i think it was Incubus. so terrible.

    as she talked she wouldnt give me any eye contact, which was nice, cuz i was checking out her mexican makeup job, which was complex, and her wet-look hair, which ive always liked. she traced the letters on the cover of her book and drew flowers around the borders of the picture.

    the whole time i kept thinking, what is the deal with teenagers. cant they see my receeding hairline? dont they know that i am not at all interested in the whole Lolita thing? only reason i talk about web cam girls is cuz i like design – cuz i cant do it!

    anyway, this girl has no fear about asking questions.

    she asks: are you married?

    i say: no

    she: any kids?

    i say: not technically

    she: do you go on a lot of dates?

    i say: i have no car

    she: so?

    me: so if the boy doesnt drive, it’s not a date.

    she: whhhhhhat?

    me: totally.

    she: so what do you call it if the female drives?

    me: i don’t know what to call it, but i don’t call it a date.

    she seemed to be disappointed in my answers.

    fortunately we had arrived at my stop.

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