The Ghost of the Greyhound: An Introduction

Well, I'm typing this on a laptop that isn't mine.  Don't worry, I didn't steal the goddam thing.  It's somebody else's.  Now, you may be thinking,"No shit it's somebody else's.  You just said it wasn't yours.  Whose is it?"  To that I shall say that it's none of your business.  I will say that I'm not used to typing on this thing and that if there are any minor typos then you can kiss my ass.  Well, you don't have to kiss my ass just over a typo but if you wanna get all picky and give me a fuckin B- just cos there's a few typos, well you can kiss my ass.

Then again, this is likely to not be a blog worthy of a B-.  But whatever.  If you can't handle a typo then I'll gladly trade problems with you.

OK, so so far I haven't said a goddam thing.  I've just been making idle threats to you nice people.  Or not threats, but vulgar proposals.  I mean, kissing my ass probably isn't that incredibly awful.  It's been done before under happier circumstances.  It's not like I told you I'd break your fuckin legs.

Geez. This band Solstafir goes really well with beer, fatigue, confusion and typing.

Anyhoo, what I jumped on here to explain is that Greyhound still exists.  I mean, you see them.  You see their stations.  You hear about them wrecking into medians and killing all their passengers.  But does it really exist?  Or is it like the moon landing and the holocaust?  Yep.  Greyhound is like the holocaust.  It exists and it fuckin sucks.  I recently survived a trip on the bus and I will tell you that it was a goddam nightmare.  Of course, you can't believe everything you read....

Aw christ.  I gotta get off this damn computer mostly cos my back's sore and I'm sick of typing.  Well, not really but it'll take too long to finish the goddam Greyhound story right now so I'll tell it later.  In the meantime, I kinda like this piece of drivel cos I'm the kinda guy who likes drivel such as this.  So let this be the prologue to a blog and I'll go ahead and post the damn thing.  I'm sure you'll be on the edges of your seats awaiting the story that is certain to come whenever it does.  If you're not, well then I'm not sure what to tell you.  I already told you to kiss my ass.  Use your imagination.