So I’ve come home the last couple of nights on the night bus, a long-winding contraption that zips through communities throughout London when the Tube closes for the rest of the night. Here are some stuff I’ve encountered while on a bus at the wee hours of the morning:
So many gostosas on the bus. That means Brazilian women. Hot, young Brazilian women. Too bad I don’t speak much Portuguese.
I had a conversation about Indie music and how Kings of Leon has turned too pop. I made it clear that it was unusual for me to listen to “Use Somebody” and “Sex on Fire” at a club. I admit I like those songs, but it’s awkward trying to dance to it.
That dude’s boyfriend that I encountered last night sure looks a lot like the Moz himself–Morrissey. I told him that his passed out lover/companion looked like Morrissey, and he didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. He thought I was insulting him, but I insisted it was a compliment to the highest degree.
People smoking on the bus. They sure are baller.