two dolla

the most stunning ring ever

The General and I have talked a lot about getting some pepper spray to take with us when we go to the dog park. It’s not that either one of us are scared of the dogs attacking us, but moreso other dogs attacking our dogs. The General’s dog was attacked a couple of months ago and the only thing around to help get the other dog off of Kentucky was a stick. We later found out via animal control that it’s legal to use pepper spray for just that reason, making the Keychain mace a pretty good idea. But considering our keychains already look way too much like ones a janitor might carry around, it might be a bit much.

The good news? They have a pepper spray ring. Yes, I said that, a pepper spray ring. It’s “a beautiful self-defense ring with pepper spray, offers safety, elegance and confidence close at hand.”

I’m picturing myself walking Riley one night before bed, just me, my gigantic pansy of a dog, a few poop bags, and one beautiful silver and gold plated ring that could protect me from a sneaky attacker. In my current neighborhood, I’ve never so much as even felt threatened by anyone other than the gigantic dog next door, but it’s kind of an awesome backup plan should the neighborhood wind up transforming into the sketchy place I lived in a few months ago.

Another option The General just pointed out? I could wear it while on the bus. I mean, what happens if Nutsack McGee decides he to adjust my business, too? I’m so weak and fragile that I might not be able to defend myself, and nothing says “back off my lady parts” than a quick one second burst of pepper spray right into his bloodshot, sleep-deprived eye. And with any luck at all, it might just make him think twice about adjusting his own manhood while using public transportation.

the first of what could possibly be many bus stories

Back when I lived in Eagan, I would typically opt to take the train from time to time when going to baseball or basketball games. I didn’t have to pay for parking and I didn’t have to deal with the gigantic mess of traffic afterwards, which tends to fuel even more fire to the already exsisting anger I would feel after watching any of my favorite local sports team lose. But I never took the bus.

I’ve taken it twice since moving here in the late winter/early spring of 2002. Once, I was living in St. Paul and working in downtown St. Paul, so I figured I’d give it a whirl. I got scared and pulled the stop request cord about half a mile before my actual stop resulting in a morning hike to my office. The second time, Cindi was trying to teach me how to ride it, so we took it from her place to a bar. I only remember the kid sitting across from us that was completely cracked out picking at his face and continually thinking someone was looking over his shoulder, even though his back was to the bus window.

I took the bus every morning this past week. It’s a $2 fare and it gets me to work on time, if not early. And while it’s taking me a while to get used to not being in complete control of my ride to the office, I don’t really hate it and I’m getting some reading done.

On Thursday, a man with a tie got on at my 35th and Bryant stop. I’ve been riding the 4B bus for three whole days, (THREE WHOLE DAYS) and up until today, I’d always been the fanciest one on the bus. Instantly (and obviously), I didn’t like him.

I like to sit in the front of the bus, because there are always open seats, I get to see everyone that gets on, and I can get off pretty quickly. I sat down, and noticed that the guy with the tie sat down in the row of seats somewhat diagnol to me. I’m reading America’s Boy, pretty much minding my own business, and I look up long enough to notice the tie-wearing guy is reading a sales-related book. I have three theories about guys that read books called “How to Rock at Sales” or anything even remotely close to the sort.

1. They’re horribe at sales and desperately trying to find a source where they can learn how to be a pro before their 30-day probation runs out.
2. They’re new to the job and just want to look like a cocky pro.
3. Their asshole manager assigned them the book to read. (Oh wait, that was me in my last job.)

So, the bus stops somewhere between my stop and the edge of downtown, and this guy stands up. I figure he’s getting off the bus at MCTC, but no, he’s standing up for a different reason – so he can adjust his boy parts.

Dude stands up, sales book in one hand, and takes the free hand to grab his entire package. It apparently needed adjusting. I can’t really assume that it was bothering his knee or something to that effect, but the way he grabbed it allowed me to see the outline of absolutely everything that I never wanted to see on the bus at 8:40 in the morning. It’s possible the man only had one nut.

And the day after that, I started catching a different bus.