This was from the bus last week as I watched this dude 

totally making a move on some lady who totally was unaware

 that she was about to be molested. 

 

 Last night/this morning I whistled while 

waiting for the night-shuttle bus. For ~a half hour.

This may have been the highlight 

of the non-research aspects of his weekend.


 I believe I said it best when sending a

...wireless internet based message to my brother:

 

Someone's gonna get tuberculosis from the gross hobo on the bus. It is like all the people out tonight have neurosyphilis--and they all talk like the assistant coach from Waterboy...

 

(next message, about 10 minutes later)

 

Seriously, it must be gibberish-speaking hobo promnight. There is no other explanation for this critical mass. Maybe a beer-wagon blew up in a pot-plot in town.

 

(basically I should just play thorough when working nights

 instead of going home late/early.   

Also, every day here reminds me that I need to earn enough 

to live on my own island.  Lessons learnt.)