…read my phone texts because they are sitting next to me. I really need to see the parents of such jokers for they are the source of these useless oxygen consumers. I am talking about these annoying fellows who try to read with you as you read a text from someone while riding on a public transport commuter vehicle. What the hell are you looking for if the text is not addressed to you? How I wish there was a special kind of cancer for these snoopy jokers. They need to spend the rest of their lives on a hospital bed reading their own texts and minding their own business.
…think it is ok to edit their faces in a public taxi/bus. Of course I do know that beauty lies in the hands of the beholder, but, I just wish I was given the power to behold in my hands the right to slap the living daylights out of ladies who think they can edit, ‘photoshop’ (read apply makeup) their faces in the clear view of everyone in a commuter taxi or bus. Couldn’t you do this at home or in the bathroom of a restaurant/workplace?
Who tells these people that we are interested in enduring the pain of watching them fidget with mascara as they try to concoct a Beyonce look on their tired faces? We are not interested in your face if you could not fix it earlier.
…enter a taxi in a group and then try to continue their conversations. We have all seen this happen. Four or three boys/girls enter a taxi, sit in different places and then try to continue their conversation peppered with tired slang expressions like the use of “man” as if it were a punctuation mark. What I do not seem to understand is whether there is someone who misled these jokers into thinking that public transport facilities like buses and taxis have some sort of conference facilities that allow them to shout over people’s heads.
…keep money for their transport fare in strange places. My hate missiles are still aimed at people you find in public taxis. I am still shocked by the fact that some people still keep money in their bras for example. It can be quite disturbing when you see someone removing the sweaty old note from there and then handing it to the conductor who then passes it you as your change.
So what am I supposed to do with a wet-straight-from-the-bra note? Maybe hang it somewhere to dry? Let us get with the programme, it is 2012 not 1962. Do not make me start using my credit card in a Twegerane taxi.
…say they want to tell you something but they can’t. How I wish it were possible not to write anything here and leave just space for my readers to fill in as I go around smacking the faces of these people. Why do some people invest so much energy in being uselessly annoying? So you are telling me you want to say something but you cannot?
Even before I can ask you why you cannot tell me, I feel I should be focusing on how to assist you keep your lips together for eternity. What logic is there in telling me something that you actually cannot tell me about? The more confusing this gets the more I wish there was a law against such foolery.
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