Big (Really Big) Regret of the Day

There was a bus parked on my street.  I’m talking like a full-on, cross-country-capable, my special lady friend who’s British would call it an ‘Uncle Gus,**’ bus, baby!

Wait! It gets, better before it gets worse.  This bus was getting ticketed by a hard-working traffic cop, who had to be just as excited about this odd occurrence as I was.

I saw this great scene and I instantly envisioned the tumblr post I was going to create:  A picture of the cop putting the ticket on the bus, captured from the perfect angle, with the subtitle…wait for it…”BUSted!”

But I didn’t do it, because I was carrying something like 18 bags of groceries, and Ryan doesn’t put his Teddy Grahams onto a wet sidewalk for no reason.  But now I regret it, because I would’ve probably won a webby for that shit.

**Okay, she wouldn’t call it that, because even though she knows it, she never uses cockney rhyming slang, much to my dismay.

21 May 2012 ·


I am so good at getting past those people with the clipboards that stand on the sidewalk to fundraise for charities:

Charity Girl: Hi! Do you want to help children with cancer?
Me: Nope, I’ve gotta go exchange this shirt at J. Crew right now. 

Charity Dude: Hey, man, can I get your help feeding the hungry in Africa?
Me:  Nah, I’m on my way to lunch.

Androgynous Charity Person: Excuse me, but do you have a minute to hear about how you can help cure AIDS?
Me: AIDS!? Ew, gross.

However, like all great tragic figures, sometimes my greatest strength ends up bringing about my downfall, like the time I was in SoHo a few years back and this woman reached out to give me what I thought was a flier.  I artfully dodged her and made it a few yards down the street before pausing, sensing that I had made a mistake.

I looked back and realized that this woman was handing out free Fruit Roll-Ups!  The alliterative quality of such a phenomenon alone makes it amazing, but I love Fruit Roll-Ups!  I couldn’t go back either.  It’s this damn pride of mine.  Can you imagine having to go back—hat in hand, tail between legs—put out your pathetic paw, and say, “I’m sorry, I was wrong to snub you before, and actually I would like one of those complimentary fruit treats.”  I couldn’t do it.  It’s one of the great regrets of my life, second only to the time I ran over that child with my Harley.

16 June 2011 ·

About Me

A filmmaker, journalist, and freelance video producer in NYC named Ryan Jones, who also goes by K. Ryan Jones for professional and pretentious reasons. He reads books, waxes poetic about old Nickelodeon shows, and at certain times of the day has no clothes on.