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 Misinformed,

This morning was my first day back at school. The buses and train cars were overly crowded, as always, but I sucked it up and got on and got back into the swing of things and managed to always get seats (go me). However, I did have an issue getting onto my first bus.

I got onto the bus with no problem after flashing my bus pass, but then halfway to the train station, the bus drivers switched and you asked to see everyone's proof that they had paid the fare. Okay, that's no biggie because I have a bus pass. I show it to you and you took it from me, flipped it over to see that there's a magnetic strip on the back and then you frowned.

You thought it was a fake because you hadn't seen the new bus pass yet for my school. So you called me on it, wanting to know why it was purple. Because, according to you, it was supposed to be pink (the colour of the summer term). I tried to explain that it was the one that I got in the mail (true) and as far as I knew, it was the correct colour as it also listed what the expiry date was (April 2009). So as far as I knew, it was the correct one.

I argued with you for like 3 minutes, telling you that it was an actual pass before I finally just got up, walked right past you and put it into the fare checker at the front of the bus by the driver's seat. I put it in, the machine beeped to say that it was fine and spat it back out. I pulled out my bus pass and sat back down with this oh-so-smug look on my face.

You didn't look pleased, but at least you didn't try to throw me off the bus. And for that, I thank you.

But if I ever see you again and if you ever question my bus pass again, I will call you on harassment since (if you do it again) it would count as harassment.

Sincerely,
Girl with the Purple Bus Pass

Dear Mister Bus Driver,

I hopped onto the bus and within five minutes you were addressing the entire bus, informing us that we should keep our feet on the floor of the bus at all times, that we should keep our feet inside the bus and off of other seats because this was not our living room or bedroom, this was public transit.

I thought you were great for doing that, since it's gross when people have their bare feet against the poles that people touch with their hands.

Of course, the best part about you being the bus driver was that when you announced stops, you also announced which buses that people could transfer to, where the buses went and what numbers those buses where.

Seriously, you were the best driver I've had in a while.

Plus, telling people to keep their feet down or get off your bus? Very nicely done. Considering it's a disgusting habit that people have. I get having your shoes off when you're in your own car, because it is your own car. But in public transportation? Where there's chewed gum on the floor and occasionally on the seats and such? Gross.

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 Blue Eyes,

So I was feeling pretty down today, mostly because I was feeling sick this morning (only a small part due to the fact that I had an exam at noon, mostly because I have been sick for the last few days). I look up across me from the bus and I see you sitting there, reading a book. You had sunglasses on, those dark ones that I always find that make someone intriguing and you push them up onto the top of your head to reveal those blue eyes. You smile a little, possibly to yourself, and you flipped the page.

And what strikes me as funny is that I used always glance over at people wearing sunglasses. And now that I've started wearing them, I've noticed that more people looking at me, glancing my way. And I couldn't stop looking at you. Which was pretty much incredibly embarrassing once I caught myself looking.

But seriously, beautiful blue eyes. And I know that you attend the same school because I recognized the logo on your jacket (plus, you know, it said the school name and the name of a sports team). You just had this cute smile and you kept on looking up. Which was nice, considering I was directly across from you.

I would have said something, I would have. Only, you know, I wasn't feeling good and my voice has been coming and going all day. I didn't particularly want to start off a conversation with clearing my throat or a hacking cough.

Most sincerely,
Very intrigued with men who wear sunglasses

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 Woman with the Cell Phone,

You sat down next to me on the bus this evening, I had no problem with that. You pulled out your phone and started chatting with your friend, I also had no problem with that. What I do have a problem is was that you pulled out your cell phone, started chatting with your friend and then proceeded to loudly tell your friend all about how your vagina was itchy.

Yes, it's all find and dandy that you are having issues with your girly bits. But must you really yell these problems out into your cell phone so that everyone else can hear it as well? Honestly, is it so much to ask for you to just whisper the damn problems that you have with your current (I'm assuming this part) yeast infection to your friend? Just go to the doctor, get something for it, and keep your trap shut about it on the bus. Decorum, woman, something that you do not possess.

So go to your bookshelf, pick up a dictionary and find the word, realize that you don't possess any, and then find some. I'm sure it's available on eBay.