that friday feeling

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Here I am, once again in Costa, watching the world go by. I can hear squirtles and squishels, the clink of cup against teaspoon and the incessant chatter of the woman who won't allow anyone else to speak. But I don't want to talk to you about today's Costa experience. I want to talk to you about my bus driver this morning. He was BEAUTIFUL. Yes, so beautiful I needed to shout it from the rooftops {or in this case, tabletops.} His classic eastern European cheek bones, haunting eyes that burn into your very soul, and his general whole demeanor. May I please say, Phwoar!? Not only was his beauty attractive but his attitude too. He was strict, and I do like a man who knows how to control the masses {within reason, and not evilly obviously.} No drinks on the bus. No standing at the front of the bus. Move down the bus so we can get more folk on. Friendly, but firm and authoritative. I look forward to him driving me around again soon. Please don't tell my Husband of my wicked thoughts.