Dear Advice Giver,

I encountered you on the bus. You're probably around my father's age, a bit more gray hair and a visible receding hairline. Dressed pretty simply, dress shirt paired with jeans that looked way too stiff. Now, I didn't say anything to you and you was sitting in front of me on the bus. And then you decide to turn around and start talking to me.

Y: You won't get a nice decent man to marry you if you continue to dress like a slut.
M: [I slowly pull my earbuds out at this, I thought I misheard you over Lily Allen] Excuse me?
Y: You won't get a nice decent [insert race here]* man to marry you if you continue to dress like a slut.
M: [blinks slowly] Okay, right. Umm, thanks.

Politeness: 1, Random Stranger: 0

Because my answer kinda rendered you speechless for a moment, I took that as an opportunity to go back to listening to my music.

Of course, I took a few seconds to address my outfit that was visible for the day. Runners, not slutty. Black pants, not slutty. Navy blue hoodie that was zipped up, not slutty. Red jacket to keep me warm and dry, not slutty. Hair? In pigtails. I had to text a friend and she informed me that pigtails were probably what resulted in the slut comment. After all, schoolgirls just get such a bad rap in the world, right?

However, I am not impressed with your generalization. For all you know, I could have been under the age of 16 and the biggest worry in my life is wondering if the boy who sits next to me in math class even knows that I'm alive. For all you know, I could be the next Virgin Mary and have a miracle birth. For all you know, I could cat around and be sleeping my way through the men's water polo team at my school. Luckily for me, I'm none of those things, but you don't know that. You based your decision of me on... what, exactly? The way I was keeping to myself and reading a book? The way I was keeping to myself but, oh wow, I have my hair in pigtails? Really? Do you have that little of a life that you have to randomly start talking to girls who are sitting by themselves on a bus and start giving them little life lessons?

Because what I learned from your encounter is that I really don't care about attracting the attention from the race that you're so adament that I won't attract a guy from. I really don't care at all.

Sincerely,
Girl without a care

* The race that he was very adament that I'd never attract the attention of is the same one that I'm ethnically part of.

Dear Mistaken,

I sat down on the bus first and you sat down right next to me. I had my headphones on and was listening to some pretty decent music. I kept to myself, reading my copy of the paper and having my bag at my feet. You sat down next to me and you had a copy of the same paper and then you turned and looked at me.

Man: Excuse me?
Me: *ignores*
Man: Excuse me? (a little louder this time)
Me: *sighing, a little annoyed, takes off headphones* Yes?
Man: I'm sorry to bother you but...
Me: Then don't.
Man: But you look just like my exgirlfriend.

Now I could have taken this in so many ways. You looked to be probably in your early to mid thirties. So I had to bite my tongue from going "So you were dating someone who wasn't even the legal drinking age yet?" - but I thought that would be mean.

Me: ...
Man: It's sounds crazy, I know. But you look just like her.
Me: That's nice...
Man: Women, my God, they're all insane though.
Me: ... Really... *wishing to go back in time and sit down next to that little old lady across the aisle with the knitting instead*
Man: You know why she broke up with me?
Me: *is attempting to read the comics at this point*
Man: You know why she broke up with me?
Me: I'm sure you're going to tell me... *continues reading comics*
Man: She said I was too unstable. That I just couldn't do anything right.
Me: *bites tongue*
Man: Can you believe it? Why would she say such a thing?
Me: *ignores*
Man: *rattles on*

Seriously, next time you feel the need to dump all of your problems on someone who happens to look like your exgirlfriend... Maybe you should consider a therapist. Not a university student who was attempting to read the news and really trying to ignore you. And if you do want to use me as a therapist again, I'll be charging you $20 for the duration of the bus ride - just for the sake of balance in the world.

Dear Owners of a Bundle of Joy,

I stood in the bus line. Yes, I realize that people have nicotine addictions. Yes, I realize that secondhand smoke is kind of unavoidable if I'm standing in a line. But if I really wanted to, I could just step out of line. I could move to stand downwind from you. I am physically capable of doing that.

Your baby, that precious little bundle of joy, who was sitting in her stroller sleeping?

She doesn't have a choice.

Both of you were smoking, rolling the stroller back and forth in what I can only assume is like a rocking motion for the baby.

You made the decision to give birth to your child. You keep her dressed and in a fancy stroller with toys hanging down in front of her. There were things that made rattling sounds, lights, mirrors, stuffies for her to chew on. You make all these decisions to better her life and her development.

But you're willing to smoke around her.

I don't get that, really I do not. I mean, you're willing to make all these decisions to make sure she's safe, happy, entertained and loved. But you will smoke around this baby. If she was a teenager, I wouldn't care because she would be capable of moving away from you. But instead, you're standing there, both with a cigarette in your hand and you both smoke and blow out smoke at the same time.

And there was no wind today. So I could see the cigarette smoke just drifting down and hanging around the stroller. And there was your little girl, just sleeping. And inhaling, and exhaling. Can you imagine what kind of effect that secondhand smoke is going to have on her three years from now? Ten years from now?

You have the chance to keep her healthy and safe. Instead, you're exposing her to something that could cause her to have asthma, to develop respiratory issues and other health problems. You have the chance to do right by her. And instead, you both stood there, smoking while your baby was sleeping.

If there was an award for the stupid parenting moves, I'm sure exposing your child to secondhand smoke on a daily basis would be up there, right under 'driving drunk with your child in the backseat'.

Sincerely,
A Coughing Fit

Dear Jerk/Asshole,

While I was on my way home today, I happened to get a seat on the train. Which is rather nice (and was expected, considering I get on at the first station). But then you got on at the next station and you started talking. Loudly, might I add.

While I appreciate that everyone feels that the trains are overly crowded (they are, as it is common for back-to-school) and everyone feels that there aren't enough seats (or rather, there's not enough train cars), I do have one complaint about your conversation that you were having with your friend.

You stated (and I quote): All women are either bimbos or hags. They'll either put out on the first date or expect you to wait until they get a ball and chain around your ankle.

Now let's assume that you are correct. urbandictionary.com tells me that a bimbo is "A girl who is stupid, wears lots of make up and is obsessed with boys and clothes. Generally blonde but there are exceptions. Usually hang around with other bimbos. You can spot them because they will be the big group of girls that all look the same and are giggling hysterically." The definition for a hag is "An unattractive, middle-aged (or slightly older) woman. The term is commonly used to describe hysterical or ugly women in positions of power."

Now, if this were true (and all women are either a bimbo or a hag) then I am either stupid, with a face caked with makeup, obsessed with both men and clothing and blonde. Or, I'm unattractive, middle-aged (or older) and in a position of power.

Well. I can't be a bimbo because I don't wear an absurd amount of makeup and I don't think that I'm that stupid. And I can't be a hag because I'm not middle-aged or in a position of power. Then what on earth am I?

I think you need to throw in a third category for everyone who's not stuffy, stupid or power-hungry.

Let's call it "women who just act like themselves and don't fall into a stereotype". But let's just say that you're right and that all women are bimbos or hags. Because I'm sure if someone were to argue with you while we were on the train, you would have called them one or the other.

And while we're at it, how about we could it up with only two categories for men: Jerks and Assholes. Guess which one you fit into!

Sincerely,
Girl Without Stereotype

Dear Man in Blue,

I think it's commendable that you feel the need to inform the people in charge of the transit system that you find it faulty because the bus didn't show up for an hour. I understand your frustration because everyone else that was waiting for the same bus (myself include) was also very frustrated.

But when you start throwing things down onto the ground and just at no one in particular around you... You no longer appear frustrated, but maybe a touch mental. You threw down your bag. You threw down your blue jacket. You threw down your sunglasses, your transit pass. You threw down what remained of your lunch and probably whatever change you got from your bag of fast food.

You shouted obscenities at people and demanded, from everyone, to know when the bus was arriving and why was it so late.

And the odd thing is that when the bus finally did arrive... You didn't get on. You shouted at the driver, told him that he was damned late and you had lost an hour out of your life that you will never get back and then you just picked up all your things and left.

Dear Mister Truthful,

Yesterday while I was waiting for the bus, you were walking around. Dressed in scruffy clothes, you looked a bit dazed, a bit confused. Never one to willingly interact with people I don't know, I kept silent and was listening to the up-beat rock that was flowing into my head, courtesy of my headphones. You started addressing people, telling them who they were, what they were and how damn awful they should all feel. But you were only addressing the woman, you disregarded the men as if they were not there, as if they were not worthy of your time.

One woman was Satan's whore. Another was Satan's bastard daughter. Satan's wife, Satan's cousin, Satan's mistress, Satan's slut.

One by one you labeled the women as you walked around. You would stop in front of each one and tell them exactly who they were in your mind. And then you stopped in front of me and just smiled, almost cheerfully as if you hadn't been insulting the woman before me and as if you weren't going to be insulting the woman two people away from me.

"Satan's master," you called me.

And to be honest, I didn't mind it very much. My friends and I have an on going joke that I rule hell. And, well, as Satan's master that's exactly what I'd be doing. So thank you for being the first one out of my circle of friends to acknowledge all that evil, pent-up power that I have. It certainly made my day and made me smile. I said thank-you and you moved onto the woman after me in the line up for the bus.

Thank you for being honest,
Satan's Master

Dear 'Chimney',

I was standing on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive, and I happened to be standing next to a young mother with her baby in the stroller. They seemed nice, her baby was happily gurgling and waving to everyone she saw, such a sweetheart. And then you arrived.

You in your baggy jeans that were probably three sizes too large, you with your visible blue plaid boxers and your oversized sweatshirt that could have held you and two other people your size in it. You also happened to have a math textbook that was written to be geared towards students in grade six. Of course, that wasn't the problem. Far be it for me to judge you based only on your clothing.

My problem with you was not because of your age or your clothing or even the fact that you had questionable taste in music (a word of advice, if you don't want to go deaf by the age of 21, it's probably a good idea not listen to your music that loudly so that everyone around you can hear every single word in that ridiculous rap song about 'hos' and 'bitches'... just a word of advice).

No, it was mostly because you were smoking on the platform. And to make matters worse, you turned your head, every single time you were blowing out smoke, and blew it towards the young mother and her baby.

You might like the idea of developing lung cancer, having yellowed teeth, having bad circulation and not being able to run for short periods of time without gasping for breath, but the some people in the world don't like that. And considering a baby's lungs are the last of the major organs to develop when a fetus is developing, the lung tissue can be quite delicate. And, in addition, a child's immune system is always in the development stage. And you blowing cigarette smoke in the direction of a baby in a stroller when she can't get away from you or hold her breath until the smoke passes her by, doesn't help.

So the next time you feel the urge to have a cigarette on the train of the platform, maybe the rest of the world should be blowing something disgusting and unhealthy into your face so you can breath it in. Taste of your own medicine, after all.

Dear Scot,

Today while my friend Katie and I were waiting for the bus (the schedule was not in the pole that said which bus stop it was, which was disappointing - we were waiting for over 10 minutes for the bus and it was very windy and cold - this is all besides the point) and we saw this man get off a bus. That in itself is not very interesting, but the man that we saw you. You were wearing high white socks and a red kilt that had what looked like traditional pins to keep it from flying up in the wind.

As soon as the bus driver (a woman) pulled the bus away, you started cursing, stamping your foot down in anger. Saying that if any woman "ever fucking does that to me again, I'll cut her fucking head off". Now, I'm sure you were only saying this in anger - but honestly now... Violence doesn't solve anything and nor does cursing at someone who cannot hear you. Also, uttering threats of bodily harm is unlawful and therefore you can be charged for them fighting words and if anything ever happened to that woman, you'd be the first suspect since there'd be something in the records. Besides, it isn't very nice to threaten to cut someone's head off.

You stomped angrily away, shaking your head at the women of the world in general and then suddenly you cursed again with a very loud 'fuck' and then said very loudly how you just missed your bus. Now, I'm sure it's very nice that you are well versed in the use of profanity, but there is no need to curse so loudly. (Also, in case you did not notice, a woman was pushing a stroller with a toddler by you when you were busy cursing. Perhaps you're not very caring of people in general, but toddlers can speak and can mimic the adults around them.)

When the bus that my friend and I were waiting for eventually arrived, you got onto the same one and just muttered things to yourself, shaking your head the entire time and when you got off, you surprised me by actually thanking the driver. But then, the driver was a man so I supposed that you felt that you had some sense of kinship with him.

But anyways, a word of advice for the last time you want to utter threats of bodily harm to people who are just doing their job. Don't say it out loud. Especially since there were about a half-dozen witnesses. So happy holidays and I hope you get exactly what you deserve.

Dear Begging Man,

It was snowing quite a bit today, at least it was for the area that I live in. You were walking around the outside of the train station as my friend and myself were making our way towards the entrance. You walked by and were shouting "Could you please give me a fucking penny?"

Now, I am not exactly versed in the proper etiquette of begging money off of people (read: pan handling) but I'm pretty sure that you would be much more successful with asking people for money if you were not shouting at them and if you were also more polite and not swearing at the same time.

For example, here are some things that you could say that would make your pan handling days more successful:

1. Could you please spare me some change?
2. If you could give me a penny, that would be much obliged.
3. It would mean the world to me if you were to spare me some change.

It doesn't make that much of an effort to come up with some more positive, more polite sounding ways of asking people for money. Plus, you also do not come off as incredibly rude and loud and frightening.

I hope you found somewhere warm for the night though, it's pretty cold outside.