that was october

Halloween came and went here in Brooklyn. Meg was awesome enough to buy us pumpkins even though she doesn't really like scooping the goop. I love carving pumpkins, and that was my favorite moment during the month of October.
Thanks Meg :).

Liam was a creepy clown, and scared the crap out of me. I wore my vampire teeth to work, and discovered pumpkin spice lattes have the power to stain them.

The rest of the month is kind of a blur. I work. I sleep. I try to do dishes. I try to remember to take out the trash. I work. I run out of underwear and force myself to hit the laundry mat twice in one week so that I can procrastinate for another couple weeks.

So you see, somethings never change.

I fell in love with the express bus.

That's right. I indulge myself. Life's little pleasures? Lattes from Starbucks and sleeping on the express bus. I'm really good at it. First I spend sometime on my phone looking at facebook, then I slip into slumber, waking up just a few blocks from my stop an hour later. But I do not like the 5:30am bus.

Most of the time, I compare riding the express bus with flying business class, but it is actually closer to riding business class on the train because there aren't TVs or jacks for your laptop. There are however, neat rows of high-backed seats, with lots of room to spread out. The temperature is comfortable, and everyone is quiet - they are either sleeping like me, or reading.

The 5:30 bus is nothing like this. First of all, it comes at 5:25am, NOT 5:30am. Second of all, it reminds me of the Knight Bus from Harry Potter.

It rolls up in the dark, old and rickety. The heat does not work. The seats are uncomfortable, and it is filled with the weirdest cast of characters.

There is the tall skinny man, dressed in black from head to toe. Including dark sunglasses, and a black felt weekender hat. He does not talk. Across the isle from him is an old woman in a dirty brown 3/4 length winter coat. She does talk. She talks to the bus driver, to the fat smelly guy in the very front seat. She greets a few of the other men who get on the bus. She wants to talk about the Yankees, but she knows less about baseball than I do. Then there are the two middle-aged black women with the crazy hair. I don't mean crazy styles, I mean crazy, as in NO style, as in sticking up in the back and if I am unlucky enough to have them sit down in front of me I can smell them. At the back of the bus you will find the Coffee Slurper, the Snorer, and the Sniffler. I don't know what they look like because I have never turned around. I admit, I am afraid to.

Needless to say, I sit shivering and grinding my teeth all the way to work.