The bus I ride is usually filled with grad student types, lab managers, librarians, department secretaries, and the like. Every once in a while things are enlivened by signs of bacterial vaginosis, but it is a sedate group in general.
One day last week, though, a couple of guys swanned on and began chatting volubly about (a) killer techniques for selling cable door-to-door, and (b) the good times of being on probation for drug-related criminal activities.
They were as cheerfully gossipy as any stereotypical little old ladies. Some dude called Aldo really brings the A-game with his pitch in Spanish, I hear, but if someone answers the door and speaks English he basically just walks away, oh and did you know he was a crackhead? Yeah, he did time for that in Guatamala.
They had some tips for passing urine tests via drinking water with baking soda in it and also for being glad you got booked back before they were taking everyone's blood so they don't have your DNA on file.
Then one of them was talking about the more hardcore mandated counseling classes he had to take under Prop 36 back when he was busted for possession, as opposed to the relatively mellow requirements of his probation at the moment.
"Oh, this, this is just for DWI, it's real casual. I can drink, I can leave the country, whatever I want. We can talk openly about our drug use, whatever. And man, everyone in there has a million connects."
Other guy: "You gotta be careful though, someone in there is gonna be a rat."
"Oh yeah, sure. Everyone knows. They say like, oh yeah, don't talk to Celia, she's no good. And then you see her file and you see yep, she got charged for like nothing."
The other guy paused, thinking about the perfidious Celia and what could be done to protect hardworking cable salesmen, just looking for a hookup, from her ilk.
"There should be a blog for that," he said.
(Apparently it's pay-to-play, though, and he didn't say what the URL was. Hopes dashed.)