GREYHOUND CAN GO FUCK THEMSELVES DOGGYSTYLE MEEEEOOOOWWWWW

Today is our lucky day folks, we have a guest writer at You Can Go Fuck Yourself. I know what your thinking! "No one could post on your blog but you and if they asked then you'd direct them to where they can start their own blog", well guess what assblow, I DO WHAT I WANT. So wait no longer here is a wonderful story of how greyhound can suck a giant fleshy meat purse and fuck itself in the exhaust pipe.

Dr. Magnus Vervon and Company

"GREYHOUND CAN GO FUCK THEMSELVES.....

It seemed like a simple enough mission, one that I've accomplished successfully many times in the past. Catch the
greyhound bus from Whistler Creek to Vancouver....
I check the time, 1.25pm, 10 minutes till the bus departs.
"Sorry about the dishes in the sink, but I gotta fly" I yell to Shannon through the bathroom door as I rush out of the
house. Just as my brisk walk is turning into a run I come around the corner and see the bus waiting....perfect!
"Can I buy a ticket from you, or should I go inside?" I ask the driver.
"Just get one inside." he responds.
So I go into the office to buy a ticket, where there are two other people purchasing their tickets. "That'll be $30.87
each" I overhear.
"Really? That's a $10 price rise" I explain to the cashier, and the unsuspecting tourists, who up until this point, thought
it was a pretty good deal.
"I know" says the cashier "what are you gunna do though, right."
No doubt this is just Greyhound, like everyone else, cashing in on the 2010 games, which can also go and fuck
themselves in the face with a chainsaw.
So as I'm accepting this fact and searching through my pockets for the extra change, the bus driver steps into the
office and says "the bus is about to leave. But you know what, you guys are better off to wait 5 minutes for the next bus.
There'll be much less people on that one."
He gets no argument from any of us, and he hops into his bus and drives away while the cashier prints out our tickets.
As we sit in the cold 5 minutes go by and no bus arrives. None of us really think anything of it, but as 10, 15, 20
minutes roll by we're starting to get impatient. After about 25 minutes one guy goes into the office to investigate, but he
never returns. Instead the cashier comes out and explains to us how the bus got filled up in the village and is on its way to
Vancouver. "but you can take the 4.30pm bus" he says with a smile.
Starting to think that hitch hiking would be a better solution, I ask if I can possibly get a refund. "Sorry" he says "no
refunds, its company policy."
Taking into account the fact that he did sound quite genuine, and that the computer would probably not allow him to
refund a ticket, I refrain from telling him to take the 4.30pm bus and fuck himself in the arse with it.
Being a fairly positive person, I go home, and after quickly venting my frustrations to Shannon, I turn the unfortunate
situation in my favour and get on with my day. After getting a few things done, I turn up to the village bus loop at around
4.05pm, so as to make sure I get a seat on this one.
As I'm waiting to board the bus I hear the driver ask the girl in front of me "Have you paid the $10 for your extra bag?"
This is another additional payment that has been added since I last took a Greyhound. I think to myself "At least maybe
they'll have made some improvements with all this extra revenue." I couldn't have been more wrong.
The bus pulls away from the loop, and it's hard not to notice that the driver keeps opening and closing the door. Turns
out the door doesn't close properly so anyone sitting near the front of the bus gets to enjoy the cold breeze coming through
the crack. Passengers toward the back of the bus, on the other hand, begin to cook as the driver cranks the heat right up to
compensate for the breeze in the front.
While on the subject of broken doors, I find out the hard way that the bathroom door doesn't lock. It's tricky enough to
take a shit while doing 80km down the sea-to-sky high way, let alone doing it with one foot up against the door.
And the driver, put it this way. If the gears were crack-heads, he couldn't find them down east hastings on a Saturday
night.
After what seemed like an eternity we finally arrive at the bus depot. As all the retards on the bus try to be the first one
off it, before it even stops, I sit in my seat and think of all the things I wish Greyhound would go and fuck itself with....a
barbed wire fence, a very large fish-hook, maybe a hummer (not the small modern kind either, the old sort, like Arnold
Schwarzenegger would drive), the list goes on.
But hey, like I said before, I'm a positive person, so that's enough of that.....
....go fuck yourself greyhound!!!"