Limo Liner

Yesterday I lost my car keys in my parents’ house. If you ever want to hate everyone you talk to then lose your keys.
“Yea, I fucking checked my backpack 17 times! Don’t tell me to look again.”
“No, they’re not in the ignition. Stay out of this grandma. You’re not helping.”

Since I wanted to get home sooner than later I decided to treat myself to a trip down to New York on the limo liner bus.

When you get on a limo liner, you expect a lot for your $89. That’s worth approximately 6 Chinatown bus trips. For this much money I could have my bus break down six times on the high way because the driver was talking on his cell phone while doing 90 miles an hour in the breakdown lane with no permit, registration, or gas.

The good part about the limo liner, in addition to a complementary bagel and free viewing of Pirates of the Carribean: At World’s End, is that you don’t risk decapitation on a Greyhound and having your body eaten while you’re asleep. If I’m going to be murdered, it’s going to be in luxury.

We also have Wifi on here, which means I’ve checked email 80 times. Whenever I check my email I never have new messages. I should check to see if I have other things, like depression and a pitiful sex life. Then that wouldn’t show up so much. After that I should stop checking to see if I have my car keys and when they magically reappear I’ll drive home in the Ferrari I didn’t check to see if I had.