Posts Tagged ‘people’

Way too many advertisements pluck away at our insecurities. I think that’s the biggest reason why people hate themselves. We’re told we are supposed to have nice skin just because Jessica Biel does or whore is currently under contract with the “Splash some water on your face” acne cream commercials. I don’t think Jessica Biel works anymore. I think her career went downhill when someone finally saw one of her movies and was like “Hey, that’s not very good.”

jessica-biel-beach-body-986156210

(Watch out Jessica! The 1930s Dust Bowl is behind you! Grab your pants)

It’s a very sleazy way to advertise your product. Some are more subtle than others. Like Wendy’s always make it seem like you’re a loser if you don’t have friends to eat heart-attack food with. Most of the time I have meals with other people it has something to do with dying. Either it’s a funeral, an anniversary of a death, or someone in the corner is choking.

WendyOutake1

(How does a woman who behaves like this always have so many friends to grab a meal with? Oh right because she’s playful with her food and mimics oral sex with it. Being a woman is so easy!)

The worst ones are the advertisements that make sure believe we need surgery to be normal. What is normal anyway? George Bush was supposedly a C student. That’s average. So the average person is a millionaire oil tycoon who once owned the Texas Rangers. How does that make me feel? Not very good.

The real key I find as I grow older is to be insecure only for the sake of being aware. Insecurities are only a problem when they destroy your security with living an average, or as we have learned George Bush, life. Everyone has something gross on their bodies. Even more people have something gross on their face (usually their giant noses). Whatever you are insecure about let it be and don’t buy a facial cream, Subway sandwich, or gun to solve it.

I think the worst insult you can give a person is to tell them that they have a bad haircut. These are my reasons:

1) They look ugly. Nobody likes to look ugly. I do sometimes to keep some women and every homosexual man from touching me. You know how those gay men are, groping everyone they can. Plus people are nicer to you when you are ugly. They think you might be a dangerous serial killer and they have more respect for your personal space.

2) You paid to look ugly. The way we spend our money matters to other people for some reason. Making a poor purchase will change people’s opinions of us. Money is something that once you lose it you have no way of ever earning back. Haircuts are expensive too, starting at around $10 if you want a simple trim and some light flirting from the barber. They usually cost around $20 if you want to hear a good war story.

3) You accepted looking ugly. Not only do you look ugly and you paid for it, you accepted it. You rolled over and allowed yourself to appear less than perfect. The first thing people notice about each other is their skin color. The second is their haircut. If you have a bad one people will not like you.

I am not a person who ever has good haircuts. I shave my head once or twice a year and the rest of the time I let it grow out, dead and thinning. My hair looks like a brush fire went through it right now, probably because an actual hairbrush never has. Thank goodness for hats to hide my shame.

miley cyrus ugly hair miley cyrus haircut(Hey Stupid, put on a hat)

What’s your favorite insult?

I don’t feel bad for very many people. In fact there is only one person in the world right now I feel bad for. I saw him a few minutes ago.

This man is anywhere from 60 to 4,893,081-years-old. Chances are he is closer to the lower end. He is a pizza delivery guy that works at the Dominoes down the street from me. Or is it Dominos. I think it’s the second one. Dominoes would be what we would call if the Keira Knightley character Domino was cloned. And if she were to be cloned she would get played with by Puerto Rican men all day long.

keira_knightley(This woman’s body and acting ability is so flat I think she is a domino)

I feel bad for this ancient pizza delivery man because he looks miserable. This isn’t some job he has to get out and meet people. He’s busting his ass delivering food to teenagers too high on the marijuana to safely cook something themselves. They probably tip him bad. I think we have all been around friends who insist on not tipping. The odd thing is most people that are bad tippers have shitty jobs their entire lives so it comes back to haunt them like my grandfather does me.

I cry pepperoni tears for this man. The weather right now is really cold and his born in the 1940s bones are probably aching. Just because this man probably committed some awful war atrocities in Southeast Asia does not mean he should have to live out the end of his life  suffering with a job he clearly hates. It’s not his fault his hands and face are too gross to actually touch the pizza. We should blame God for that.

godfrey(Or we can just blame comedian Godfrey. I mean, he’s black and has hair different from me)

Sadly the only thing I can do to help him is pray for his death. Maybe in an attempt to get the pizza somewhere in 30 minutes or less he will get hit by a tractor-trailer and crushed between two large sheets of steel. I imagine the joy on his face when the police show up and admit to him that once the truck and his delivery car are separated, his guts will spill out from his waist and kill him. This is the best option for this poor old man.

Old people call their underwear their “unmentionables.” I am not old. I call my underwear “transportable shit rags” because that’s the basic purpose of them.

underwear-filter-fart-640x416(This is how actors prepare for roles that require bad teeth)

I am not posting this brief work of art however to talk about underpants. Instead it’s just a little post about what you can expect from this blog in the future. I don’t say this to make you eager. I don’t mention this to get you excited. I’m only making this declaration mostly for myself. I would like to be able to post a little more frequently on this blog, even if the posts are not as long as they used to be. In fact that would be better. If I write two paragraphs than everyone would read 50%.

As I approach the 600 Blog Post Club, a number that has a big fat asterisks because I made one post private when I wanted to post it somewhere else and never bothered to really fix it so I could never really determine an official number, I would like to get it over with sooner rather than later. My goal would be by the end of February and about a little over 15 away (nobody has ever said “a little over 15″ in their life except when giving a guilty verdict) this is absolutely doable.

DAKOTA FANNING at Now is Good Premiere(Do you know what else is doable? Dakota Fanning! She is more than a little over 15 at 19 years old. Have at it Seinfeld!)

Since most of my blog posts I already have written are nothing too exciting, I want to make the majority of them about my unmentionables; things I would not normally blog about. They may range everything from the inappropriate to secrets I never shared with others. I’ll also probably toss in other garbage too you don’t care about. Of course they will still come through in the same familiar voice I have always delivered full of typos and ill-thought ideas. I am far too uninterested in making sure everything on a blog reads well. I have other things to do like overeat and hate myself immediately after.

My primary reason for trying to expand into writing about things I normally would not is to knock down what little wall I keep up. I would like to build up more of an ability to be incredibly open, honest, and detailed while not offending others involved too much. Basically I just want to say mean shit about people who said mean shit about me and not feel bad about it because deep down inside I really do feel bad whenever I make people upset.

No. I will not be giving you updates on the state of my underwear. You get it? Because some people call underwear briefs…

Clearly I haven’t been attending classes at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theater with that attempt at humor. And by that I mean it’s impossible to be funny without first paying a couple hundred dollars for a class. And after you graduate that class you WILL BE funny, even if you never have been. Not.

So what have I been up to? I’m clearly not blogging much, if you didn’t already notice. Or at least not as consistently as I have. What have I been up to?

I work just about every day, sometimes weekends too. When I work weekends it’s staying inside a luxury Manhattan apartment watching television and playing with dogs. It’s as bad as it sounds, not really at all.

When I am not working, I have been attempting to write other things. I do so much writing at work by the time I get home I don’t have the energy do much else other than eat. Food is supposed to give you energy, but it never gives me much. I think I might be doing it wrong.

My fantasy baseball team collapsed and barely made the playoffs, then got bounced out in the first round. My other fantasy baseball team is in the finals, but they are not doing very well. I also have a fantasy football team now and it has me interested in the sport for the first time ever. I don’t know what this has to do with anything. None of this takes up much time.

I also had someone mail me a birthday card already. My birthday isn’t for a few more weeks though. It was a pretty awesome card and includes hand-sketched pictures of me. This is much better than in past years when people would give me butt-sketched birthday cards.

I have still consistently been submitting to Yahoo. Some of the articles are pretty good and mean while others are boring and pay money. If you feel so compelled, here is the entire listing of my Yahoo articles.

I think the moral of the story here is that I don’t have much to complain about. I’m actually pretty happy. Yuck.

Movies have extras. Life has extras. The best thing about the town I’m currently residing in is it’s very communal. By that I mean it’s so poor that we all share a bathroom. We call the bathroom “anywhere in Burger King.” My favorite things about towns are the people in these towns that we encounter often but never connect with. Here are people I see often and will never know when they die.

The Androgynous Homeless Person:

I’m pretty sure it’s a woman. I would probably have to have sex with it to find out for sure. I see this homeless person almost every day. Technically it lives one town over. Well, technically it lives nowhere. Sometimes it asks me for change and other times it just sits there looking exhausted. The best part is there are two bridges nowhere and it gets to choose which one to hide beneath and bother people. I only have one home where I can do that.

Pat2(Remember Pat from SNL? I just did)

 The Kid Handing Out Papers:

There’s this kid I always see by the train station handing out papers. At first I thought he was an entrepreneur but then I realized he’s working for some luxury apartment building. The luxury apartments he works for are apparently really nice. I can’t be sure though. I always refrain from making eye contact with him. He works too closely to the homeless thing.

The Friendly Subway Girl with the Nice Butt:

Possibly my favorite person in town is the girl who works at Subway and has a really nice butt. She wears tight black shorts sometimes. Say what? I hate that the counter blocks my view. She’s always very friendly too and smiles a ton. Whenever she serves me I’ll stay there and eat because I have this fantasy that she’ll mop up the floor, bump into me by accident, and somehow we’ll accidentally have sex.

undercover-boss-Subway-sandwich-artist(My future wife getting yelled at for farting on the olives)

The Unfriendly Subway Girl with the Nice Face:

 Personally I think this Subway girl has a pretty face. She’s less traditionally beautiful, something I respond well to. While the nice butt girl has a perfect Portuguese face with a nice tan and plucked eyebrows, this unfriendly girl is pale and looks a little insecure. She never smiles or anything. One time I made a joke about how the sandwiches are not really 12 inches. I think I mentioned that on my blog before. She defended Subway when I said it and we only saw each other one time after that again. Well, I saw her. I doubt she saw me. The bushes were high.

The Dunkin Donuts People:

The Dunkin Donuts down the street from me has a unique cast of people working there. Angry Black Guy is okay, friendly fat girl is a doll, round Mexican woman is average, and young Indian guy always seems polite. The only two people I dislike are the two guys whose nationalities are a mystery. I have a feeling they make fun of me. One looks like a tall midget and the other has a face that lets us know he was probably in a car accident. It’s only two or three blocks away so it’s the only Dunkin Donuts I can ever go to. The other one is really far. I would rather get laughed at in Arabic than have to walk an extra mile.

KENYA BOMBINGS LADEN(Sometimes it feels like they’re being as mean and Middle Eastern as this guy)

 The QuickChek People:

Quickchek is the place I go the most. Like Dunkin Donuts, it has many people. There is the Arab girl, the friendly fat guy, a lot of tall well-shouldered young Spanish men, a bunch more Spanish girls, guy with a mustache, and my favorite the attractive older Spanish woman with blonde hair. I probably have as much of a shot hooking up with this 45 year old Spanish woman as I do…okay maybe I do have a shot. She works at Quickchek. She might do things for money.

The Old Guy From Dominos:

I don’t go into Dominos ever, but I always see their geriatric delivery man wandering about. I always feel bad for the guy because he’s probably someone’s grandfather. He’s clearly 70 or not far from it and he looks miserable delivering pizzas. I really hope he was a white collar criminal, otherwise his life seems really sad because his coworkers are lesbians with weir tattoos and haircuts.

 mrburns(He does have a Mr. Burns thing about him other than the whole having money detail)

The Town Crazy Man:

Every town has that one crazy man. My hometown had a guy who would always sit on his porch talking to himself. This new town has this Spanish guy who rides a bike with a giant American flag and a boombox. Sometimes he plays good music too. I’ll see him at all times of the day. Morning, afternoon, and in the middle of the night he’ll be riding around blasting music. His only competition is the guy who stands in front of Quick Check with a giant crucifix. He’s a little less crazy because the second vampires attack he will be prepared with a defense.

The Crazy Old Lady:

I almost forgot about this one until I saw her almost get run over by the Town Crazy Man. The Crazy Old Lady first crossed paths with me one afternoon when she said “hello” and it sent shivers down my spine. She did it again and I was prepared. What’s terrible about her is that she literally looks dead. She’s incredibly pale and it’s just freaky to be around. I saw her litter the other day which totally turned me against her. It was great too because she was about to throw the trash in one place, but decided to throw it somewhere else. Somewhere a Native American is getting ready to hunt her down and scalp her already bald head.

Over the course of a person’s lifetime they are said to meet an average of 17 people. I’m pretty popular so I have met a lot more people than that. The thing is, a lot of people kind of blend together and are more background characters than anything else. They are folks who I only remember one or two things about. These are their standout moments from my perspective, mostly the one or two things I remember about them.

-There was this person I knew who would watch Comedy Central then repeat the Dane Cook jokes he heard in class. People thought he was cool. He was wealthy and seemed to have everything going for him. Then he told a girl he liked that he liked her and she told him he wasn’t in good enough shape for her. Now she’s really fat and I hope he’s dead.

-There was this person I knew who one time during a school play fainted in the middle of it and fell about five feet. It was epic and a lot of people still remember it.

-There was this person I knew who while on our sixth grade orientation he had a box of munchkins to celebrate his birthday. He tripped while holding them and I said “Everyone is going to call you the Donut Kid in middle school now.” Nobody ever did because I was the cruelest girl in school.

not-another-teen-movie-mia-kirshner-as-catherine(Me in high school, basically)

-There was this person I knew who I heard accidentally pooped on a guy’s face during cunnilingus. It was a very well-known story and probably true because people are disgusting.

-There was this person I knew who would draw pictures of our English teacher giving him oral sex in class. She was about 60 years old. He was 14.

harold(It was like this only more nudity and a crooked erection. I don’t mean crooked like it was taking bribes from government officials either)

-There was this person I knew who told me that unprotected sex was the only way to have sex. She offered to have sex with me. I said no. A month later she told me she had HPV and she probably died.

-There were these people I knew who said we would be good friends forever. No clue what happened to them.

Ozzy_Smith(Somewhere in the unknown with Ozzie Smith perhaps?)

-There was this person I knew whose elbow I touched and she told all of her friends how much she liked it. We made plans to get coffee together and then she deleted me off of Facebook. I kind of hope she did it so I didn’t have to find out about her suicide.

-There was this person I knew who was a complete dick. That doesn’t really narrow it down.

-There was this person I knew who made fun of me in high school. Then he raped a child and got put in prison.

TOM+CRUISE+TOP+GUN+1980S(It wasn’t this guy although he also went to prison for raping a kid. I know way too many pedophiles and rapists)

-There was this person I knew who would never say “haha” or “lol” online to anything. It annoyed me greatly.

-There was this person I knew whose house always smelled like cat piss. He did not own a cat.

battle royale(He also recently bought this)

-There was this person I knew who fell asleep drinking a soda. I was at his house so I just left and took my DVDs I had lent him with me and we never spoke again. Death?

-There was this person I knew who would follow this girl he liked around. He would even drive her and her boyfriends places. He still does it. He never learns.

-There was this person I knew who told me how awesome I was and it wasn’t a lie. But this is a lie. I’m making them up.

-There was this boy who had so much hope for the future and then he met a lot of shitty people. Now he blogs about them.

*Note: I make too many TV/Movie references

The other day I met someone in person that I met through blogging for the first time ever. We all have those stories where we meet up, stare at each other awkwardly, and then debate whether or not our perspective of them is still the same. My encounter was a little different because if anything I got this guy to blog, somewhat, and our friendship developed from there. My dad received tickets from his boss for a Philadelphia Phillies game and because my dad has a car with an engine that breaks every time you roll down the window, he handed them off to me. Since my new friend lived in Philadelphia I thought this was the perfect chance to finally meet up in person.

Everything seems all perfect until you realize I had to travel from New York City to Philadelphia for the game. I managed to get a $1 Bolt Bus ticket from New York’s State Capital to the capital of Philadelphia (also a state capital) that took only a little over two hours during rush hour. In fact, I ended up getting to the game before he did because he is a lonely alcoholic named Carter Johns and was busy sitting alone at a university bar being about a month away from turning 30. The bus ride down and the subsequent subway was very simple, although I came to realize that I am turning more impatient. In New York people walk fast and this is how you tell the tourists from those who choose to reside around this area. In Philadelphia things move slower which is nice except when you’re trying to get somewhere on time, like all of the time.

snail(Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter on his way to the Septa transit system)

The game was good, they actually won, and Carter was kind enough to buy me alcohol and food, somehow knowing that I had planned to get chicken fingers without even telling him, which is totally creepy that he knew it. I could talk about our drunkenly ramblings for the first few innings until the booze wore-off, but that’s not what was the major event of the day. The biggest part was getting home. The game ended around 10:15 and I had a long journey home ahead of me.

The first thing I had to do was grab a subway to Center City Philadelphia then transfer there to more western Philadelphia. It was there I parted ways with Carter who tells me he’s not popular even though we ran into three people he knew, all of whom seemed grossed out by me. After getting off the subway I headed over to the 30th Street Station, basically Philadelphia’s big metro system plaza thingy. My next train wasn’t for about 40 minutes so I walked around trying to figure out how to buy a ticket because the machines would not let me. A fat girl dressed as a chef told me I could buy a ticket on the train with only a one dollar surcharge and I had to because this was the only option I had left. This first train ride was simple enough, leaving at 12:01 from Philadelphia. I got into Trenton at about 12:50 and then I had yet another train to catch.

gordonramsey1(She was dressed like this except I doubt she will ever be as famous as Gordon Ramsey. I have a feeling she eats the food before it gets to the table. Awww that was mean. She was helpful)

My next train left Trenton at approximately 1 in the morning. Keep in mind, I actually work now and wake up at 7:10 for work. Why 7:10? Because It takes me 15 minutes to get ready in the morning and then I stand around for a combined 10 minutes wondering what the hell I’m doing. This train left Trenton and before it even took off there was controversy. An older black man was saying how some woman “played him” and he was clearly drunk or a constant blister on society. He talked to one of the conductors about nonsense and didn’t make too much of a scene. Also on this train was an Indian guy who kept getting off at the wrong stop. The ticket taker (I refuse to call them a conductor) told him to “relax” because he kept jumping around nervous. The only other standout person on this redeye train to New York was a woman who I know was a stripper. I know she was a stripper because one eye was all glittery, she was attractive, and the conductors seemed to know her. What other job on earth requires you to glitter one eye? Unless she was punched by someone at a gay parade, she was a stripper.

That train got into Newark where I had to transfer, again. If you don’t know much about Newark, it goes like this. Newark is fabulous city if you plan to die. It’s pretty dangerous and usually makes Top 10 lists, or sometimes only Top 20 when too many of the criminals are already dead or locked up. It’s easily one of the scarier cities I have been in alone at night. The worst thing about this night was I went to grab my train only to find everything blocked off. Not only that, homeless people were lying around everywhere and whenever I see this I always think they’re going to pop up and scare me. I asked a nice man with a dumb voice where to go and he gave me sour directions that required way too many steps. I tried to follow them anyway. I headed down to the McDonalds like he told me and that’s when I saw the nervous Indian walking around as well as the only other white person within screaming for help distance. The white guy had on a giant backpack and seemed really dumb and lost. He probably isn’t and he admitted that he was.

Bonding over our fear, the white guy and I tried to find a way to Manhattan. He had no clue what he was doing and he would probably be dead if not for me. I pretty much led the way and got us to a really complicated out of the way train track that required us to go up three floors. He was entirely confused so I let him use my Metrocard (I’m so New York) to get into the rail system. We began talking and I found out he was a French student traveling abroad. He sounded French and he looked it. He had an ugly mustache for sure. I later asked him what his name was and he told me. When asked to spell it, he told me it was too hard to spell. Okay then. We came to the conclusion that his name is pronounced “Tibo” as in Tim Tebow. So our supergroup name was Tim Tebow. He seemed to have no understanding of what I was saying.

Charles-de-Gaulle-006(Tibo literally looked like a young Charles de Gaulle)

Tibo with the complicated name and I small talked a bit more until our train finally came. A gay guy from Oakland was on our train too and he joined our party because he was terrified. The gay guy completely hijacked the conversation, but that was okay because Tibo was French and said the French love Americans. Tibo is a liar. I tried convincing Tibo to follow the gay guy whose name I didn’t get, but who knows if he did? I had to get off at the first stop and they had a few more to go. It was already almost 3 in the morning and I was already planning out in my head the negative letter I was going to write to NJTransit for their complicated system of finding trains.

I said goodbye to my two friends. I do consider them friends. They were the perfect friends because I will never have to see them again. I got off the train and began my walk home. I grabbed a green tea from QuickChek because I was severely dehydrated then passed by a group of attractive younger people toward home. On my walk home two kids came around the corner in front of me. What would you know, one had on a white shirt with red sleeves and the other had on a red handkerchief hanging out of his pocket. This in gangland is known as “flagging” and suddenly only a half mile from my apartment I was walking behind two Bloods at 3 in the morning.

ariana grande(For some reason when I searched for gang members flagging for an example a picture of Ariana Grande came up. I think it’s terrible that I know who this is and that she has a gay brother)

I slowed my walking and hoped they wouldn’t notice me. I was carrying an umbrella which could have been used as a weapon. My friend Rob beat up a kid who looked like wrestler Dino Bravo with an umbrella years ago so it could work on two thugs, right? The worst part about even after I slowed my walking was my shoe was squeaking so loud and it was the only sound present anywhere. They knew I was only a few hundred feet behind them. With each step I thought they would turn around and mug me. I had a $50 bill in my wallet too. They could have bought lots of red stuff, like catsup, to go along with their gang affiliation. They ended up crossing the street then later on made a rendezvous with two females. I climbed into my apartment building alive, safe, and exhausted. I popped into bed and go a nice healthy doctor recommended three hours of sleep.

So really what I’m trying to say here is that scientists need to get on inventing that whole transportation thing because this was just not cool.

Sometimes I will be somewhere and feel completely out of place. In these situations it would be helpful if I had a t-shirt explaining why I am where I am. I hope you know what I mean though. There is not always the chance to explain to a person why you look so out of place with words. Words on a t-shirt can do the explaining for you. I have decided to create my own t-shirt slogans that I can wear when I go certain places that express completely my feelings and why I am there. Hopefully you can relate to a few and buy them off of me. I guess some aren’t even for me as much as they are for you. I’m so nice.

“I’m not creepy. I just didn’t have anyone else to go to this event with.” – this shirt is to be worn whenever you go somewhere and cannot find anyone to go with you

“Yes, I will probably have sex with you. Smile at me and if I smile back it’s a definitely yes.” – this shirt is to be worn at all times

“Believe it or not I have higher aspirations that what you see me doing right now. In my spare time I work hard to achieve my dreams, but haven’t quite gotten there yet so I’m stuck here.” – this shirt is to be worn while at work

“Please leave me alone. I am a woman and there is a reason I am not making eye contact with you. I left the house to be alone.” – this shirt is to be worn by females whenever they please

“I am going to talk to anyone who acknowledges my existence.” – this shirt is to be worn by socially awkward creepy men who bother everyone

“I’m pussy-whipped.” – this shirt is to be worn by any guy who goes to a club with his girlfriend

“I like sluts.” – this shirt is to be worn by any guy who goes to a club to pick up a girl

“There is nothing wrong with me. The friends you see me with just happen to be in long-term committed relationships, most of them trapped into them for fear of being alone otherwise and I don’t blame them because they are crappy people and I am only still friends with them because I feel obligated to after all of the memories we have shared together.” – this shirt is to be worn when you are a third, fifth, etc. wheel

“I haven’t had time to do laundry because I have a social phobia about going to the Laundromat.” – this shirt is to be worn when you find people laughing at how smelly you are

“If you are attractive feel free to talk to me. If you are unattractive do not talk to me. If you are attractive and I ask you a question, continue the conversation. If you are unattractive and I ask you a question, I only want to know the answer.” – this shirt is to be worn by women while traveling

“I acknowledge we live near each other, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you.” – this shirt is to be worn around neighbors at all times

“Of course I’m not happy. I’m an American.” – this shirt is to be worn while at and on the way to your therapist’s office

“My parents weren’t as good as they could have been, my friends don’t understand me, and I feel very unloved and alone in the world.” – this is actually not a t-shirt but a tattoo I suggest most people get

“It’s my fault, but I don’t care.” – this shirt is to be worn whenever you make a mistake, whether you did it on purpose or not

“I do want to help you. At the same time, I want to do it quickly, exactly the way you told me it would happen, and I fully expect you to do the same for me somewhere down the line.” – this shirt is to be worn whenever a favor is asked of you

“Fuck you.” – this shirt is to be worn whenever you are near someone who is giving you their opinion on a topic

“If I wanted hash browns I would have asked for hash browns. And please, don’t mumble your words when asking me if I want any. I’m going to naturally say no to mumblers.” – this shirt is to be worn by me exclusively every time I go to Dunkin Donuts

Any other ideas?

I was on a train recently and I saw the most amazing thing ever, some Mexican woman’s cleavage. Now before this turns into some strange public transportation erotica story let me just say that it’s not. This is about spending time with people who you cannot communicate or share a single interest with. Let me just talk about her cleavage for a moment though.

Fantastic. The word fantastic was invented for her. She wore a black and white dress, conservative for the most part until we got to her bosom. Or is it bosoms? I don’t know if a tit is considered a bosom or if the whole package is the bosom. Anyway, the front of her dress crossed in some fancy way and there was a good space open in front of her chest large enough for me to shove my face in. I didn’t shove my face in there because I’m not one of those people and she had a boyfriend or husband with her and he was much taller than I am.

Rarely when I get on a train and I know it’s going to be crowded will I grab a seat. I know there is going to be some old person, pregnant woman, or pushy human being who deserves a painful death that I’ll end up having to give my seat up to anyway. It’s easier to just stand than to do a kind gesture for another person and not get anything back in return. I decided on this venture to stand near the door that says “Do Not Lean Against Door” rather than stand where all the buttons are. That’s the kind of person I am. I would rather accidentally lean against a door and fall out than I would accidentally bump against a button and have to stand there embarrassed as the conductor has to check to make sure there’s no emergency.

british_prime_minister_david_cameron_standing_on_a_train.(That’s pretty much me standing there except I never dress like Hans Gruber)

The train was unusually crowded for a Saturday night. I thought people stayed at home crying Saturday nights like I usually do. Please don’t tell me I’m doing things incorrectly…

After a few stops and the first where things really packed in, the Mexican woman with the awesome cleavage stepped onto the train, heels clicking against the floor, the march of a slut sounds. With her was the earlier mentioned husband or boyfriend. He was tall, handsome, had glasses, and had the same voice as some guy I knew. I had not seen the guy in a few years and when I said hello to him he said “Oh yeah I remember you” then walked away. Fuck him.

walton-goggins-2012-afi-fest-01(Both of these men look like actor Walton Goggins with a smaller forehead. If I had said with a bigger forehead that would have been frightening)

They stood near me because I guess they have farting problems and wanted my stench to cover up their gastrointestinal embarrassment. They began talking about how they were going to a show at UCB. The guy had no clue what UCB stood for and since I know more about the New York comedy scene than the average mongoloid, I chimed in that it stood for Upright Citizen’s Brigade.

The two lovers turned to me as this is the thing you do when someone you don’t know speaks. He gave me an “Oh yeah!” and we then began talking about the show they were seeing. Tits McCleavage-Bonergiver looked at me too and gave me an “I don’t know what you’re saying, but you don’t seem threatening” smile as I spoke with her man. He told me he had gotten an email from his work about the show featuring Amy Poehler, “that Michael Cera guy from Juno”, and “that blonde guy from 30 Rock.”

First of all, if you refer to Michael Cera as being the guy from Juno, you missed out on a lot of his career. He wasn’t even the star. The film had a titular character that wasn’t him and this is the only film the guy knows him from. Second of all, this guy wouldn’t shut up about 30 Rock. I have never seen an episode, but I pretended I knew who he was talking about because it’s weird to explain to a person “I don’t have cable and even when I did the idea of 30 Rock never really appealed to me much because I find Tina Fey a little overrated in many ways. I would probably give it a shot at some point, but there are so many other things I have to watch beforehand that appeal to me more.”

??????????????????????(Michael Cera has done so much at this point I bet he doesn’t even put Juno on his resume)

Our conversation didn’t last long and he kept saying “Should be a good show” in a “Shut up dude” way to me. So I did that. I stopped chatting with them. They continued to talk though and that’s when I learned this guy might not be so lucky. His female companion still could not grasp what improv comedy was. That’s fine. Sometimes I don’t get what improv comedy is.

Their interaction continued while I stared at some old guy in the adjacent train car picking his nose then occasionally back at the woman’s cleavage as a chaser for humanity. They talked about lots of nonsense and the most important thing of all was their conversation was not a back and forth. One would talk for five minutes and get almost no response and then the other would do the same. It wasn’t like they were loveless either. They just didn’t seem to comprehend what the other was saying.

Somehow it came up that the woman knew someone who was “really smart” and got real into UFOs. Awesome-Breasts O’Rgasmic told the most horrendous story about how they went to a bookstore looking for something. The story made absolutely no sense at all. Her hubby had so many questions and he seemed so terribly confused as did I. She laughed a lot during the story like she was already seeing Juno’s Michael Cera perform improv. When the story ended her husband looked at her and said, “Okay…”

great expectations(She could have read Great Expectations in Spanish and gotten a better response…and that book totally sucks)

At one point I thought this guy had it all. The more I was around him the more I came to realize he really did. Her cleavage was that awesome that it doesn’t matter how boring her stories were. It doesn’t matter how she didn’t seem to enjoy any of the same things as him. Perhaps worst of all, she reminded me a lot of someone I dated years ago. Both were Mexicans with beautiful pimple scars, nice bodies, and not making any sense. I could have been this guy. I could have been trapped in a world where the best thing in it is some Central American cleavage.