Thursday, 10 June 2010

Music is my remedy

I know I’ve mentioned this a couple of times before, but today I was reminded once again why I don’t like bus journeys. Normally I put up with it by masking the noise of everyone else with my music but today I reached into my bag and I had left my mp3 at home. This meant I had to endure the conversations of the year 9s on my bus for over half an hour.

They are very loud and certainly reminded me why I need my mp3. I mean, I don’t want to know how many girls the guy has got off with (six by the way), I don’t need to know about the time your friend fainted in the swimming pool changing rooms and I neither want nor need to know about any of your monthly girly problems. I’ve have never and will never want to know who waxes your mum’s legs and I’d rather you kept any negative opinions about P.E. teachers at my school to yourself. Yes, your braces might be hurting but I had to put up with braces too along with half of all teenagers so stop moaning.

Don’t complain about your GCSE homework, you think that’s hard then do my A-level work for me! I didn’t want to know that you haven’t read a book since year 6 because now I’ll judge you because I don’t think not reading books is something to boast about and I certainly don’t want to hear your screaming or swearing. I did not come on the bus to have a sherbet-filled flying saucer packet thrown at me, regardless of how nicely you apologise and the only interest I have in whether you get the AS1 bus or the AS3 bus is that if you get AS3 you’re getting a different bus to me. I’d rather not hear about the secret about Ollie and jam that apparently has nothing to do with actual jam, that what he did was on Facebook by himself or anything else to do with ‘jam’. I don’t need to know that Ollie has a sister and two brothers and I’ve never wanted to know about anyone’s blister, let alone their blister that has attached to their tights. The world will not stop spinning if you do not tell the whole bus about your flowery plasters and I do not want to know more about ‘jam’.

I don’t want to know that ‘jam’ is neither bad nor good and I think the whole bus has established that he can’t tell you. I don’t really need to know that Beth has got them, wait, no, Lauren’s got them, or that you pulled your tights over your skirt following the blister fiasco.

Don’t tell everyone that you’re hungry and certainly don’t put me through the torture of listening about what you had for lunch, and breakfast, in great detail. Knowing whether you cut yourself shaving has never been one of my goals in life (apparently one cut herself shaving just the other day while another never has! I really hope they’re talking about their legs.) I don’t need to know anything about ‘over your dead botty’ or how long you lasted without swearing (less than 13 minutes is pathetic).

I don’t want to know that one of the girls owns guy spray and I don’t want to smell it either. I don’t need to know that your inhaler looks ‘sexual’ or that the under 16 club thought so too. Don’t tell everyone that you want your belly button pierced or that Erica (who apparently is in year 10 and is fat) also wants her belly pierced.

Don’t proclaim the whereabouts of your Nan’s house or gossip about that fat girl who is doing P.E. for GCSE and I don’t wish to know that you think Louise looks like a monkey or that she does karate. I certainly don’t ever want to hear who in your year has had sex and I’m pretty sure they too would also appreciate you not telling the whole bus. Don’t moan about your legs ‘killing’, as you so clearly said, you did a lot of running today so what do you expect!

Thankfully, at that point it was my stop. I was able to exit the horrible gossipy world of the upper deck and finally make it to freedom! I didn’t even jot down everything they said, but a good 90% of it was just gossip. I hate how people gossip and hearing it come from 14 year olds is even worse. This is why I generally enclose myself in the world of my mp3. If I can’t hear it, I don’t know it.

DFTBA, Terrie, I have not forgotten!

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