flakes

My typical San Francisco MUNI experiences usually fall somewhere between barely tolerable (see Exhibit A: Spare the Fucking Air Days) and excruciating (see Exhibit B: Filthy Crack Addicts), but once in a while there are some perks to the forced commingling of residents from all over this fair city. For instance, the other morning on the 38L line I got to overhear one half of a phone conversation that went a little something like this:

Phone Guy (PG): Eloy, I don't appreciate you calling me a thief. I didn't take your money. I don't do that kind of thing. I don't like it when you say I'm stealing from you.

Woman sitting with PG: He was in the middle of the street, he went downstairs to get another beer! What's he saying?

PG: OK, OK, listen Eloy. I went and got you ALL that body wash, and then I came back and you GAVE me 18 dollars to buy shampoo.

Woman: I had to lead him back upstairs!

PG: Well then...Eloy, Eloy...listen to me listen to me. Where did all that Selsun Blue come from then? How did you end up with five bottles of Selsun Blue? Explain that to me. If I stole that money, how did you end up with five bottles of Selsun Blue? Don't call me a thief!

Woman: He was afraid that his girlfriend would see he was drunk again! That's why, he went down to get ANOTHER beer at the store, he already had three and he went to get another. He didn't even know where he was! What's he saying? What's he saying?

PG: Eloy, THEN HOW DID YOU END UP WITH ALL THAT SELSUN BLUE??