The Wheels On The Bus :)

So I live over the bridge, and am therefore forced to commute to uni on a daily basis. The trip takes approximately 74 minutes. I find it funny how, when getting onto the bus, everybody sits on a window seat by themselves. Nobody ever makes a friend and sits by someone they don't know.

What an antisocial world we live in.

In saying that, however, I don't appreciate strange-smelling people sitting by me. And generally, after waking up for my run at 6am, I'm not in the mood for making new friends. Or having people try to commuicate with me at all for that matter.

But, the bus is a good place to seek out hotties or notties. I have a slight obsession with the song Tonight (I'm Lovin' You) by the delicious Enrique. I have a theory that one morning on the bus, just as the awesome beats of the chorus start to kick in on this song, I will make eye contact with a total babe. For once, the lyrics of this song might finally be relevant to my life.. Okay I should NOT have just confessed that to goodness knows who online. But I have like one follower anyway, so nothing to lose.

Bottom line: If you're hot, look at me on the bus so I can make eye contact with you and have my weird Enrique fantasy come true.

This blog was pointless.

COOL STORY BRO.

That really wasn't funny. But you're cute.

I currently have several crushes on several guys across several of my university classes. The main thread that I've found links them all together in my girlish imagination is the fact that they are interested in the same thing as me: writing. One of these blokes in particular is really into books. He mentioned in a class that he is always reading a book at any given time, and when asked to talk about his current fix, launched into a delcious discussion about use of metaphor and how beautifully the writer creates an atmosphere. I felt a bit flustered by this point.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he did the unthinkable. He made a joke. And it was not funny.

I love funny guys. In fact, I've been known to date a guy JUST based on his sense of humour. Like Timmy, for example. Okay names have been changed. No-one in today's world is called Timmy unless they're the star of Nickelodeon's 'Fairly Odd Parents.' Timmy wasn't the most delicious-looking grape in the bunch. But his biting wit and belly-wobbling humour made me see him in a whole new light.. Of course, eventually lack of attractiveness becomes an issue. He wanted to kiss me. I just wanted him to tell me another joke.

So this guy in one of my classes. We'll call him Jonas. Partly because I don't want to use his actual name in case at some point in time he reads this. Partly because I don't yet know his name. Jonas cracked a dry one and the spell was broken. Ugh, and grow up, by cracked a dry one I do NOT mean that he passed wind. Despite his dashing good looks, and his ability to speak in English-based terms, his unfunniness was a painful reminder that I can't get the best of everything. I have to make do.

Perhaps, at some point in the imagined future, Jonas and I will have a chance to talk one-on-one and not just in a classroom situation. Maybe he is actually a budding comedian and just felt that making everyone erupt into fits of laughter during a lecture would be inappropriate. Yeah.

So what've we got:
He's hot. As.
He's smart.
He's into reading.
He's well-dressed.
He's a budding comedian with a respect for basic etiquette and class rules.

Now to find out his name!

Kill me now.

A friend of mine recently told me that I constantly over-exaggerate. At first I was upset by this statement, and felt like it was something of a personal attack. But ever since they said this, it's made me realise how often I really do exaggerate things just in every day life.


For example.


On Christmas Day, I got texts from several friends asking what I got. I told them 'Aww, heaps!' I say 'heaps' frequently. But when you think about it, the literal meaning of 'heaps' brings to the imagination a picture of a heap of rubbish at a refuse dump. That's a lot of rubbish. That's a heap of rubbish. A large amount. My gifts last Christmas would barely fill half a bin bag, let alone a rubbish HEAP.


About a week ago I told a work collegue that I owned 3 pairs of Mi Piaci shoes. Now, this one was a cross between a lie and an over-exaggeration. I have 1 pair of Mi Piaci shoes. And I got them second hand at an opshop in Browns Bay. So they may well be either fake or so overused that they are no longer considered designer.


Yesterday, I stumbled on the street as I was walking to the bus stop from my second uni lecture of the year. As soon as this happened, I instinctively called out "UGH, kill me now!". The friend who I was walking with said nothing, but the ever-present voice in my head said: "Yeah, Grace. You're overexaggerating again." Of course I didn't actually want someone to hop out of a shop with a knife and stab me viciously in the chest. That would be more uncool than my previous trip in the middle of a busy street.


This morning I got up late and, upon realising that I was gonna be late for a movie date with a good friend (with romantic past, yes) I announced that I hated my life. I do not hate my life. My life is amazing and I wouldn't trade it in for the world. Okay, that was another exaggeration. Of course I would. I mean, the world! The WORLD!! That's a pretty big deal. I'd take it. Fo' Sho'.


So don't get me wrong, this blog isn't me making a resolution to stop over-exaggerating. Because in all honesty, I like the freedom of exaggeration. It makes stories more exciting, and my blonde-teenager image obvious. Plus it has a tendency to draw attention to me. And let's face it; I love that. Heaps.