Noice or Not

I drop Bubba Boy at childcare and immediately get a phone call – the electrician who was supposed to turn up five months ago has finally been rostered correctly, or something. So he wants to come over. Bugger. There goes my relaxing morning. Instead I clean the house to the point where I’d walk in and just think, “oh, untidy” instead of running outside and puking. Then he arrives, and spends about 2 hours wandering around checking power points and other fun stuff. Our smoke alarm is, indeed, illegal.

He leaves, and I try to relax. By getting on the computer. Dumb. Hubby rings from the supermarket, and tells me he can’t find stuff. I’m a grumpy bitch by this time, and give the distinct impression that I think he’s hopeless. He’s not, although he occasionally succumbs to Male Blindness. For once, I tell him just come home, I’ll go and do the shopping he couldn’t find.

Off I wander to the bus stop. Did I mention it was raining cats and dogs? And the occasional emu. While standing there, I discovered that my umbrella had a hole in it. Come to think of it, I don’t remember coming home with it. Good. Rotten thing. I stood there for about 15 minutes. Then I spotted the bus… coming in the opposite direction. Quick explanation – the bus goes down our road, loops around a bit, then comes back up our road on the way to where I wanted to go. It going the opposite way to what I expected meant it wasn’t 15 minutes late like I’d thought… it was at least 25 minutes. Bloody hell. There are stupid, stupid reasons why these buses are always late. More on that some other time.

The bus driver asked me out. That was nice. It even managed to calm my seething rage over him jokingly telling me off for racing out in front of him and flagging him down. Apparently the sensible thing would’ve been to stay standing in the pouring rain and get more soaked and catch pneumonia and die. Whoops.

Shopping went off without a hitch, and I was back at a bus stop. The rain had stopped, though, and this one actually had a wall and a roof. The seat was only mildly wet. Woot! So I waited, and waited, and waited. I wondered whether I’d get the same bus driver, and whether he’d be grouchy at me for not having told him I was married before he got a chance to ask me out.

A woman wandered up and sat next to me. And not just any woman. This was a bogan stereotype in the making. She was even wearing leggings. She had three children with her, two asleep in a pram, one older and full of energy. The constant “Britney, don’t do that” and lack of effort in stopping Britney didn’t really irritate me. I’ve been a parent long enough to know just how nuts they can drive you. Then she lit up a cigarette. In a bus shelter. While sitting, like, 1 foot away from me.

I am tranquility. I got up and slouched against a nearby shop wall instead. Then she got up and wandered off with the three. So I went back to the bus shelter and sat down. She came back and sat next to me again. Sigh. Then she finished her smoke and stood up. An old, fat guy sat down (almost squashing her firstborn) and lit up a cigarette. BLOODY HELL.

Just another day in Bogan-ville.

4 Responses

  1. Ewwwwwwwwwwwww the combined stench of wet and cigarette.

    Was she a “bogan from Logan”?

    The Bunny told me that Logan Bogans are the most Boganesque.

  2. nahhh worse I think… Ipswich!

    I’m trying not to be prejudiced, but it’s hard some days 😀

  3. Ipswich Bogans are definitely worse (says the person from Logan)

    Why is it married women feel GUILTY for being asked out by men (other than their spouses) and having to turn them down? I’m sure married men don’t feel the same way!

  4. LOL.

    I don’t think I felt guilty… but I did feel a bit bad for him, you know? I’ve never actually asked someone out and been turned down, it must be a little rough. But I admire the ‘seize the day’ attitude.

    PS. TC, did you know an Aussie Bloggers forum started up recently?

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