Stalk-home Syndrome

So everyday, I've been dragging my ass onto the stupid bus so i could breathe in re-recycled air with about 80 other people who I likely don't know and there's always this one overweight, awful-smelling deaf guy who sits in the same seat and plays with his cell phone. I swear he's taking pictures of people. He's damn creepy. I though I'd only have to put up with that sloth in the morning when I'm half asleep and groggy. I was wrong. He got on the same bus on the ride home and insisted on placing the mass that is his body directly next to me. I looked at him, stared blankly, and turned and walked to the back of the bus. He is the definition of gross. I hate him and I don't even know the man.

I'm pretty excited about the Artist of the Year show tomorrow night, the downer is that I have to leave class early to get there for their set. This is the same class I've skipped to go car shopping among other things. Speaking of which, I'm set on a car. Its sweet. It will be mine!