I cringed when you got on my bus on Hawthorne, because you’re the worst thing in Portland after getting rape-blown by a crackhead. White leather cowboy boots, skinny black jeans and a wife beater, douchey bead necklace, and a wispy mustache only a high school freshman could be proud of. You and your over-pierced, wannabe Lidya Deetz girlfriend sat down and you immediately went into a giant, clearly bullshit story about how you and a friend were ripped off in a $5000 drug deal, where you got maced but still managed to fight the thief while going up a hill and then kicked his ass while still blinded by mace, using “fuckin” every other word. You came off like an overcompensating child bragging about how he totally knows karate, but your low rent Elvira was hanging on every word, right up until you turned around in your seat and spilled almost all of your sticky Odwalla all over the aisle because you were too much of a giddy dumbass to put the lid back on. If you had spent less time making shit up and gauging your sagging earlobes and more time developing motor skills as a child, you wouldn’t come off as a jackass who needs to be fitted for a sippy cup. If you somehow manage to get into an actual fight, I hope you get maced for real real, so that your eyes can hurt as much as my brain listening to you posture.

18 replies on “Bus Braggart”

  1. Sooo, were these folks who clearly were in violation of your strict uniform code, were they actually bothering you? Or were you just listening in on their conversation?

    Have you thought about buying some headphones?

  3. ‘rape-blown’ is what one would call a situation in which an attempted rapist screws up somehow and allows the victim to get the upper hand and stave off the attack — in the end, the wannabe-rapist has a sore crotch, some facial injuries, and new living conditions subsidized by you and i…..and hopefully a state-mandated castration to boot…..’rape-blown’.

  5. This reminds me of the conversation I overheard on the bus the other day. It was two guys in the back compairing their rap sheets, both a long history of drug dealing arrests. The conversation started by one dude SHOUTING ON A PHONE CALL lining up a heroin deal after 2pm – because that’s when his ankle braclet is taken off. The other shit head claimed to have been arrested in Clackamas, driven to Tigard and dropped off at 3am. He claimed that he begged for change at the Tigard transit center for change until he could get enough fare. The both talked about how their whole families (brothers, sisters, aunts, ect…) all had been in jail. One dude’s girlfriend was arrested the night prior along with him, it was her first arrest. I noticed that both had shaved heads too. Nice fellas.

    @DamosA – sometimes people on the bus make sure that EVERYONE IS LISTENING TO THEIR CONVERSATION.

  7. The Belmont 15 goes past a methadone clinic. No matter the daylight hour or direction, there is always a gaggle of “patients” ready to board and commisserate over tales from a crack-y past, raspy voices eager to loudly share their ignorance. Oh yeah, they talk about their sobriety too. Loudly.

  8. So I used to ride the 8 bus for work. Tuestory, it’s COVERED IN URINE. Like, really covered in urine, all the time, ‘cuz it goes up to the VA. They need to de-upholster the seats and hose it out nightly, if you ask me.

    So I never take the bus. Instead, I highly recommend these cars they have nowadays. They work great!

  9. Braggin’ only works in rap songs. Like….

    Now first of all I’m the boss
    I just wanna get that across
    Man even my Dentist hates when I floss
    Pull up to the club in a Pinto likes it’s a Porsche
    Garbage bag for one of the windows
    Spray-painted doors with the flames on ’em
    Michigan plates and my name’s on ’em
    Baby, Shady’s here come on get him
    If you dames want ’em
    But he ain’t stupid so quit tryin’ to run them games on him
    He’s immune to Cupid, why you tryin’ to put your claims on him?
    Cuz you won’t do to me what you did to the last man
    Now climb in back try not to kick over the gas can
    There’s a half a gallon in it, that could be our last chance
    We have of just gettin’ home, now could I get that lap dance?
    She’s got a tattoo of me right above her ass man
    In the streets of Portland, Oregon we call ’em tramp stamps
    That means she belongs to me, time to put the damn clamps
    Down and show this hussy who’s the man
    Now, get up, dance!

  10. Hold on – 20 dislikes and this thread has only half as many comments? Really, people?! All i did was tell the busybody he ought to get some freakin’ headphones!

    Anyways @ 7,

    Iceprez, of course i use to live right off Belmont. So i’m very well aware of that methadone clinic and all the ex-junkies/junkies who’d either board the bus or simply hang out at the stop. Is there something about meth that makes people want to TALK A WHOLE LOT? I mean loudly. On a bus.

  11. “Is there anything about meth that would make people talk a whole lot?”

    K so meth and methadone are two different things. Meth isn’t like, shortened from methadone.

  16. How about you and i meet up at Pioneer Square tomorrow, that way, you can personally tell me (to mah face, of course) all about my “delusions”. How about THAT, huh?

  17. See now, you need to see someone about this. Someone who doesn’t like you isn’t going to take time out of their day to come see you. That’s the way that works. I have pretty much anything better to do than meet you at the tire swing, you violent and crazy idiot.

Comments are closed.