overheard in the angels.

In Los Angeles everyone drives. EVERYONE. Except for teenagers and Latinos from Downtown. On a recent trip to Downtown LA, I sat behind two young girls, boarding the bus just after school. With a clear sight-path to one of their cellphones, I witnessed this series of texts:

I've made boys cry and there are boys that are scared of me.

Alright then... when?

Just to let you know I'm an INTERNATIONAL ORANGE BELT IN...
This is when she lowered her phone, almost as though she knew I was peering in on her ridiculous texting frenzy. I think what I was watching was the modern equivalent of "meet me at 3 o'clock." What is this text-fight-prequel?

These are just a few of things I eves-dropped-in-on while I was celebrating my gayhood.

- And then someone tried to kill your brother?!
- you're a horrible horrible person
- No... we're going to be on crystal...
- I fucked the owner of that bar! UGH! What's it called??
- *black guy screams*
"that was really loud."
"That. Was gay pride."
- I don't like blondes. Not my type.
Not even as flings?
Not even as friends.

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