MMmmm, Humpday. Today I shall open with a letter to my fellow MTA users.
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Dear NYC Subway riders:
Please, use your fucking head. We are all trying to get somewhere, and it would make life easier for all of us if we follow some basic rules, mostly dictated by common sense:
- For the love of GOD, let people off before you shove your way on. The train is NOT going to suddenly slam the doors shut and speed away. Everybody fucking relax.
- The trains are often crowded. This is simply something we all have to deal with. But does it make any sense to pack 47 people into the 6ft. space immediately in front of the doors when there is a sea of empty air in the middle of the car? No, it doesn't. Don't just stand there like a fucking MUTE and stare at me when I kindly ask you to move in...JUST MOVE THE FUCK IN.
- Your bag/lunch/newspaper/Torah/coat/feet do (does) not need that seat beside you. And you have some fucking balls to roll your eyes when I ask you to move your shit.
- Your Crispy McChicken and two cheeseburgers can wait until you get home. No one wants to smell your disgusting grade D fried beef patty. Or, for that matter, hear you eat, since you're a pig.
- Just because you're so huge that you take up 1.5 seats doesn't give you the right to give me a dirty look when I squeeze in beside you. Maybe you should stand. It burns more calories.
- Do us all a favor and wait for some private time to test out all the ringtones on your new Sony Ericcson flip phone. While I'm totally impressed with the accuracy of 'In Da Club', I don't want to hear it at 8:16am.
- On the same topic, I appreciate mad rhyming skillz as much as the next guy, but rapping along with Trick Daddy at the top of your voice just isn't appropriate on the F train. Or any other train.
In closing, I think that if we all just use our brains for the short time we are travelling, things can improve. It's tough, I know, but you can go back to being a dumbass as soon as you get home.
Sincerely,
Girlie
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Gym yesterday was kickass, as I predicted. I was pluggin' away on the old T-Mill and sweating like a hog to the Beastie Boys, getting myself all hyped up for the concert on 11/12. After a good portion of weight training, I hauled ass home, stopping at C-Town on the way to pick up some romaine hearts. When I got home, Dan made a comment about my pumped shoulders. Yeah, that's right bitches.
So last night I was cleaning up my hamster's cages and filling up their food bowls and water bottles, and I noticed that one of my hamsters wasn't coming out of his lil' house. I called to him and blew into the cage a little bit, and as usual, he stuck his little furry nose out and glared at me. I left well enough alone, but when I woke up this morning, he hadn't touched the food...which is a bad sign. Then I noticed one of his lil' feets hanging out of his house, motionless. He seemed to have passed over night.
I know, Oh Bla Di and all that, but it's still my little hammie and I'm still sad.
R.I.P Randolph.
On the other hand, however...now I have an empty cage...with which to fill a brand new baby hammie!
I'm out of my mind.
COUNTDOWN TO CLOGGED TOILET: 15 days
************************************************
Dear NYC Subway riders:
Please, use your fucking head. We are all trying to get somewhere, and it would make life easier for all of us if we follow some basic rules, mostly dictated by common sense:
- For the love of GOD, let people off before you shove your way on. The train is NOT going to suddenly slam the doors shut and speed away. Everybody fucking relax.
- The trains are often crowded. This is simply something we all have to deal with. But does it make any sense to pack 47 people into the 6ft. space immediately in front of the doors when there is a sea of empty air in the middle of the car? No, it doesn't. Don't just stand there like a fucking MUTE and stare at me when I kindly ask you to move in...JUST MOVE THE FUCK IN.
- Your bag/lunch/newspaper/Torah/coat/feet do (does) not need that seat beside you. And you have some fucking balls to roll your eyes when I ask you to move your shit.
- Your Crispy McChicken and two cheeseburgers can wait until you get home. No one wants to smell your disgusting grade D fried beef patty. Or, for that matter, hear you eat, since you're a pig.
- Just because you're so huge that you take up 1.5 seats doesn't give you the right to give me a dirty look when I squeeze in beside you. Maybe you should stand. It burns more calories.
- Do us all a favor and wait for some private time to test out all the ringtones on your new Sony Ericcson flip phone. While I'm totally impressed with the accuracy of 'In Da Club', I don't want to hear it at 8:16am.
- On the same topic, I appreciate mad rhyming skillz as much as the next guy, but rapping along with Trick Daddy at the top of your voice just isn't appropriate on the F train. Or any other train.
In closing, I think that if we all just use our brains for the short time we are travelling, things can improve. It's tough, I know, but you can go back to being a dumbass as soon as you get home.
Sincerely,
Girlie
**************************************************
Gym yesterday was kickass, as I predicted. I was pluggin' away on the old T-Mill and sweating like a hog to the Beastie Boys, getting myself all hyped up for the concert on 11/12. After a good portion of weight training, I hauled ass home, stopping at C-Town on the way to pick up some romaine hearts. When I got home, Dan made a comment about my pumped shoulders. Yeah, that's right bitches.
So last night I was cleaning up my hamster's cages and filling up their food bowls and water bottles, and I noticed that one of my hamsters wasn't coming out of his lil' house. I called to him and blew into the cage a little bit, and as usual, he stuck his little furry nose out and glared at me. I left well enough alone, but when I woke up this morning, he hadn't touched the food...which is a bad sign. Then I noticed one of his lil' feets hanging out of his house, motionless. He seemed to have passed over night.
I know, Oh Bla Di and all that, but it's still my little hammie and I'm still sad.
R.I.P Randolph.
On the other hand, however...now I have an empty cage...with which to fill a brand new baby hammie!
I'm out of my mind.
COUNTDOWN TO CLOGGED TOILET: 15 days
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
jason:
doh!
skryche:
I have to say, I like waxangel's strategy. I think a drugged-out attitude is good to project when pursuing that course of action.