Tomorrow I drive to work for the first time. I had to print out directions from Google Maps, and Rand Mcnally for good measure. Downtown is a confusing place with its one-way streets and hilly, rainy, slippery-ness that make me feel like I'm tumbling backwards down a rabbit hole.
The parking lot in our building just raised its rates to $14 per day or $27 if you stay longer than 12 hours. Thank you, narrow, cramped, nasty parking lot. You give me no reason to stop taking the bus on non-school days (even when I have to stand in the pouring rain for ten minutes on the open street and feel fat drops pelt and patter against my hood and stain my plucky leather purse, nay, even then).
I like the bus though, I do. The only thing about it I don't like are the passengers who are incapable of shutting up. I don't want to hear about how you're having a bad ass day, or how Carmen Electra's boobs equal wireless access points. Seriously, the other people? They're laughing because they're polite. Not because you're funny. And I promise you, the book I'm reading (at least until you started shrieking in my ear) is much more interesting and original than your clumsy comparison of sex to a network connection.
P.S. If you're going to make stupid analogies for comedic effect at least get the terminology straight. Bandwidth does not mean what you think it means.