Oatmeal Farts

I reintroduced oatmeal into my diet. I also took out milk. I haven’t noticed any difference other than an increase in my oatmeal farts.

This is probably one of the better things I have going on right now as things are getting pretty hectic in my neck of the woods! Why am I yelling?

I’ve gone from partially to super to partially sick over the last 3 weeks. I lost my voice completely one day for a few hours. I have since cut out coffee and replaced it with the healthier option, tea. Tea is basically just really hot water and perfect if you like chewing on mouth blisters.

There’s a lot of changes at work too, which has taken up most of my time. I’ve been meaning to blog for a while now, but other writing priorities have taken up my time. Oh and bee time!

The company I work for is expanding faster than the vagina of a 30 pound newborn baby sliding out from its mother’s vagina. We basically need 20 employees by the end of the year. Right now, we have like 9? Tomorrow we’ll probably have 8. The day after, we’ll be at 11. There’s been so much change over either because the new employees suck, don’t like the job, or just stop showing up.

Unequivocally, the company wouldn’t be where it is without me. I say that with complete honesty and humility too. My responsibilities include: all of the scheduling, all of the billing, all of the other administrative duties, telling my coworkers not to use the n-word so much, telling my coworkers if they are going to use the n-word to do it more quietly, and a lot more you’re too stupid to understand. Okay maybe you’re not too stupid. It’s Thursday and I’ve been around stupid people all week.

Mainly, everything I do is my sole responsibility. If I call in sick, there’s nobody who can take over for me. I haven’t called in sick since I started working there in July of 2013. This is with a 1.5 hour commute one-way that includes about 4 miles of walking and an hour on the train. Basically, I doubt anyone else would put up with this.

But of course, it’s all my choice and as much as I fantasize about telling everyone to go fuck themselves, some days aren’t so bad. It’s just lately there aren’t many of those.

Besides being the most responsible one at work, that’s not a joke…, I have to play the bad guy while making sure everybody is happy. It’s like when a professional wrestler is clearly a heel and he’s fighting other heels. I’m finding this doesn’t work. Either playing the good guy or the bad guy does and I’m trying to balance both.

Today I had to basically fire someone who just had a kid. Well, I didn’t do the firing. I was just there when it happened because I’m second in charge and I’m the reliable witness. Nobody wanted to fire him because of the circumstances, but he was just such a shitty worker. The turnover at work is getting ridiculously silly for a job that pays $10 per hour. Over 20 people have been interviewed and only 1 has worked out in the last month. The phrase “a fucking waste of time” was invented for mathematical situations like this.

It’s…well it’s not strange…it’s something though that I have thinking about. With all of my responsibilities, duties, jobs, tasks, and position as the second in charge my lifestyle is still distant from someone with the power I possess. I live in an apartment that has a hallway most dicks can stretch across (mine included, yours probably not) with a lifestyle that is a fraction of the people I need to work to please. Perhaps it’s my efforts that makes me feel lower than them? A passion to do a good job without an equal result may be why I find myself muttering “fuck you” a million times a day.

It’ll be really funny when I have a breakdown. Like, of epic proportions. Sometimes when I am really frustrated I’ll think about it in my head and how it will go. I’m responsible for satisfying well over 100 people who probably would not go out of their way to do the same for me.

The problem is I’m not sure what I want. For now, I’m just going to eat lots of oatmeal and feel bloated and fart tons because when times are dire it’s all you can do.

Food Poisonings

Work has been getting really busy lately. According to a hand-drawn chart I saw, the business I work for is going to grow by about 200% in the next year alone. We’re hiring new employees and in doing so I’m meeting some really strange people.

The first round of hiring people involved in inviting 6 people in for a group interview. Within the week they were scheduled, 3 cancelled including one on the morning of. There were 2 more who just didn’t show up and the one who did was wearing high heels and has never picked up dog poop in her life (that’s basically the job).

So we decided it was time to invite even more people in to ensure we have enough for the big group interview. We invited in 12 candidates and miraculously 8 showed up.

In this 8 were a black guy we ended up hiring, a Spanish semi-hipster girl we ended up hiring, a gay guy who we wanted to hire but he didn’t respond to us until 3 days after the second interview because he’s a flake (no, not like that), a really nice girl who didn’t want the job because 30 hours a week was too much, a black girl with a really deep voice, a girl that was practically blind and kept talking about dogs with vision problems, a lazy Spanish guy (we’ve already got plenty of them working there), and a sassy overweight Spanish girl.

Originally, the sassy overweight Spanish girl was also hired. On her second day there, she told me how great the job was then informed me that she didn’t have any money to get home. She wasn’t even an official employee yet and already she’s asking me for money. I tattled on her and my boss gave her $20. She insisted that she only needed $2.50 to get home. My boss demanded she take the $20 and pay her back when she can. Then fatty got a nice lecture about responsibility. It seemed like a simple mistake she could learn from.

The first week on the job, everyone was already not a fan of her. She talked too much and was a bit of a Debbie Downer. Her sassiness was gone, thankfully, but replaced with mentioning her boyfriend (who probably didn’t exist) all of the time.

Her first week there, she also sat on an employee’s muffin. This foreshadowed a moment that would ultimately lead to her demise.

Often at work we’ll have food because my boss is hungry or wants to treat us for doing a good job. On Wednesday of her first week, we had frozen yogurt delivered to us from a former client. There were 6 leftovers and she volunteered to take them home. On Friday, we ordered Italian food. There was probably enough food for 6 people left and again she wast he one who brought it home with her.

Although most of us didn’t like her after the first week, we knew she was still young in learning. The second week, though, was the one where it was time to really wonder how long she’d last.

The week started off normally and she was as annoying as ever. But hey, everyone is. On Thursday, the same employee who had his muffin crushed, found his phone on the ground with a cracked screen. We require them to put their phones in a basket because for some reason most people (crushed phone guy specifically) cannot stay off of his when they should be working. Nobody was near the phone and according to the least popular employee on the payroll, she “found it on the ground then plugged it back in to charge.”

Using deductive reasoning, I’m pretty sure she treated that phone like it was a muffin.

I also came to learn that this same guy was asked for money from her. Not only that, she had done this with two others and it all came after she received the $20 from my boss.

On Friday I tattled again because this was getting really ridiculous. My boss agreed we’d give her one more week to really improve. Immediately after, we learned she lied about completing a task. Hey shit happens, she’s probably just dumb.

On Sunday at 6:30PM we each got a phone call from her – neither of us answered because it’s the fucking weekend – telling us that she is in the hospital. My boss spoke with her the next morning. Apparently she had food poisoning since Wednesday. I knew this was a lie because she ate a donut on Thursday. The last thing a person with food poisoning would want to do is eat. My boss asked her if she’d be in at work on Monday. She said she was going back to the hospital because she felt they didn’t treat her properly. She was informed to bring in a note and everything would be fine.

On Tuesday at 9:45AM, she was not there. No text. No phone call. No showing up to kill her coworkers by sitting on us. Hey, maybe it was pretty serious. The same thing happened Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. She made no attempt to contact us all week long so we can assume she’s done.

Technically she’s still owed pay for one day. Then again, she also owes $20 and a couple million in emotional damages.

She’s already been replaced by two people (you know how much she eats….) so her time with the company will quickly be forgotten; at least once all of the gossips stop working there.

(Delicious breakfast treat or a chair?)

Homely Train Rides

This is me writing everything that happened on my train ride home from work yesterday.

I’m writing this with the ultimate train creep inches away from me. I’d guess at our closest point, which may actually be our dicks, that only two feet of putrid train air separates us.

I stepped away for a moment to give us some room while he reads a book with Arab writing in it or possibly the book at one point got wet and the letters began to run. Is there really a difference?

A black man with a small frame and a child’s face stepped between us. Maybe it is a kid. It’s his suit throwing me off. I catch a glance at his phone. He’s playing Tetris. For how crowded this train gets, I’m guessing its practice for before we transfer.

The creep continues to read. I see him a lot on the train. Like me, he hides in the corner. If I believed in a Middle Eastern God and had dead eyes like him I swear we could be best friends.

Sometimes we make eye contact on the train. It’s very uncomfortable too. He never looks away. I have never seen him with a book before today. Could this be a new learned skill of his?

My stomach doesn’t hurt even though I have consumed about 7 small sandwiches only about 2-3 hours earlier. I have also drank nothing but coffee. Yes I’m sweating but I thought it was because I’m wearing so many layers and according to my body mass index, I am severely overweight at 175 pounds.

The creep is watching the Tetris game that the black kid/man is playing. He got bored and looked away and back to his awful non-English book. Now the black guy is looking at the book wondering what game it is.

An older black man is near us too. He has huge pants. I think it’s MC Hammer. I should befriend someone, shout “I love you MC Hammer”, and then ask my new friend of he looked. Fuck he got off at Newport.

Why is everyone so fat? A fat guy in a red shirt just got on the train. He’s not offensively huge. He’s fat where you’d expect him to joke about it with friends. I don’t think he has any. I can hear his iPod and the music sucks. Nobody wants a friend with bad taste in music.

I can only see one woman on this train. I thought there were two but one was an adult Asian man.

The creep me be getting off. Nope. But the black guy did. He had to say “excuse me” twice to the fat guy in red. So polite of him to admit to farting not once but twice. I am glad he waited until he was ready to exit.

For a second it felt like my wallet was missing. It’s there. My ass is just too flat to fill out these pants.

Fuck a baby is crying. My transfer is almost here. I have internet service again so I’m going to keep uploading my Facebook page and see nothing new.

Crossing Guards

Almost as useless to modern society as a sacrifice to a sun, the crossing guard still leaves its mark on society. Each day as I walk to work I run into these elite members of society. They may not be the most talented among us nor are they needed what with the “left, right, left” theory. My bias opinion of crossing guards begins with the fact my grandpa cheated on his wife with one, setting forth motion of continuous failed marriages in my bloodline. Know that we have established full disclosure as to why I may not have a high opinion of crossing guards, let me introduce you to the ones I see every morning.

Stubby

Stubby is an older woman shaped like a tree trunk. She is round, close to the ground, and probably has squirrels defecate on her. I have never called her Stubby at any time other than this because she is pretty much irrelevant and hard to insult since she actually does her job somewhat well. I also see her smoking a lot while she helps children cross the street which feels wrong.

The Hot Grandmother

I am not saying this woman actually is a grandmother. She may not even be a mother. I never have been close enough to her to even tell anything about her as she has marked her territory across the street from my walking route. She looks to be a bit older and in decent enough shape. My theory is that she got pregnant when she was very young and her daughter did the same thing which is why this woman has to work a shit job after retirement. I think I just like her because she has a ponytail coming out from her hat. Hats are very necessary for crossing guards, just so you know. If they ever do get hit by a car and are completely annihilated the family will have something to bury, the hat.

The Cranky Old Guy

My favorite crossing guard is probably the cranky old guy. Sometimes he yells at people for jaywalking and other times he encourages it. He’s hard to read. Maybe he yells because he cares and maybe he encourages it hoping that someone might get hit. Imagine being a crossing guard and never seeing someone get hit by a bus. That’s like a cop never getting to fire his gun. The cranky old guy also has a cranky old guy voice. He says “Come on!” like he has somewhere to be other than headed toward the grave. Since I actually wrote this a few months ago I have developed a good standing with him where we see “Morning” to each other.

“Go Ahead”

The laziest crossing guard of all is the guy who I have never seen step into the street with his stop sign to actually do his job. Instead he kind of waves his stop sign and says “Go ahead” to us pedestrians. I’m not sure why he thinks this is in his job description. All he has to do is step out into the road. Does he not want the powertrip that gives you, to stop traffic dead in its tracks? He’s probably a nice guy and all, but I would at least like to see my tax dollars that I do not pay go to more use.

The Singing Black Guy

There’s a black guy near the school every morning who seems to sing slave songs. I know he has a lot of resentment toward me as my ancestors’ only struggle in history was not having enough potatoes. Don’t get me wrong, a potato famine sound terrible. What did the Irish eat with their hamburgers back then if there were no chips or fries? What did they do with all of that extra butter? The singing black guy is indeed nice and I am now “boss” to him. Maybe he is actually just trying out for a musical version of The Green Mile. He has yet to ask me to take his hand though.

You’re On Your Own Woman

The final crossing guard I see is at the busiest intersection of all. This lady will help pedestrians cross when the walk sign first changes then stop for the rest of the time, when cars are actually more likely to speed through. She basically is letting us mobile-impaired folks know that we are on our own when it comes to getting to our destination without getting Marcellus Wallace’ed. She behaves like I’m some kind of homeless man and she’s me, paying no attention to my existence. Do your job woman. You get to hold an octagonal sign. You’ve won life’s scratch-off lottery.

Job Applicants

I was asked at work to put on ad on Craigslist for two positions. We got 110 replies. I estimate half didn’t follow directions. I clearly said place your resume and cover letter in the body of the email and most of these idiots included an attachment. To these people I replied with a severe rejection in PDF format.

(Did you know if you look at the Adobe Acrobat symbol upside down it looks like Abraham Lincoln?)

I will probably go into this further at some point when I have the opportunity because there was so much stupid. However, here is the best I have seen so far.

Applicant 1:

Girl sent a really lengthy list of why she would be perfect for the job. She didn’t include a resume or cover letter, just a laundry list of why she would be perfect. Then she sent another email with an attachment with the same stuff, this time including a picture of her face where she was barely smiling.

Applicant 2:

hi,

I LOVE DOGS!!

i am a photographer and a filmmaker w lots of sales / serving and dealing w people experience …
we had 5 dogs growing up and rumor has it when i left dad replaced me w another pup 🙂

i would prefer administrative role!
more on my experience and resume below –

 

Summary of Qualifications
 

• 4 years sales and customer service experience
• Excellent communication skills
• POS Experience
• Punctual and Reliable
• Fluent in English
• Friendly and outgoing personality

The poor writing, short-hand, and the trying to be too cute is a major turn-off. Not to mention, they have experience as a Piece of Shit (POS Experience). I’m also happy they let me know they are fluent in English which I had my doubts about. They also sent this from a Canadian email address.

Applicant 3:

As a recent [college] graduate, I would like to fill the position of Administrative Assistant.  I have an efficient amount of management and clerical experience and I am positive that I would be able to contribute to this facility.  It was recommended that I apply to this agency. After reading about the agency, I am equally interested in the position.  I have a B.A in Psychology and am looking to start a career.  

        My written and oral communicative skills have definitely grown not only from my educational background but also from my experiences in the workplace.  It is important to have these skills for this position because communicating with people is a large part of the job.  I believe that I am able to handle any of the issues that may arise while on the job.  I am a very fast learner and will be able to put what I learn into action.  I am proficient in Microsoft programs such as word, excel , and powerpoint.  

 

There’s a lot wrong here. First, the use of agency when we are not an agency. Overall this is very unimpressive and reads like a 3rd grade essay written in blood with the last ounce of strength the child may have. Also, please capitalize the program names in the last sentence.

 

Finally, the applicant finished this off with saying the most ridiculous thing imaginable…

 

I do require a starting salary of $30,000 a year.

 

^^^^^^ENTITLEMENT^^^^^^^

 

And I apologize to anyone who may have broken their computers while holding it upside down to see Abraham Lincoln’s face.

Overanalyzing Birthday Greetings

I received a birthday card at work with autographs of all of my coworkers on it. Whenever people write something personal I try to think if there is a hidden meaning in the words they choose. Let’s examine.

“Happy Birthday Tim!!” – Pretty simple. The two exclamation points feels lazy to me though. Go with 1 or 3.

“Happy Birthday Tim- You have Have a fantastic day” – Clearly he got stuck in the middle of what he was writing. A little bit of scribbling and now I have confirmation that he does not think things out. At least he didn’t write “Happy Birthday! Too many more” like he did on someone else’s card once, completely changing the meaning by using the wrong to/too/two.

“Happy Birthday mate! Have fun with the dogs” – The mate was added in as a reminder that he’s English or Australian. I’m not sure which it is and I feel like I will be laughed at if I ask.

“Happy Birthday, Tim. Let it be so good that it’ll force you to compare it to your favorite 90s alt song.” – This was an attempt at humor and a reference to something else. Let’s ignore what it was a reference to because that would take too long and complicate things. What he should have done to be funny was use different titles from 90s alternative songs. He should have said “Happy Birthday Tim. I hope it’s so ‘good’ that you get ‘laid’ by ‘two princes.’ I want to ‘praise you’ like I should.” or something like that, maybe even mentioning Possum Kingdom in some way. I just want to point out the difference between being clever with a reference and just referencing for the sake of.

“Happy Birthday Tim! Libra’s Rule! XO” – Whoa! An XO? That means kiss and hug? Somebody wants to hug and kiss me, right? She also signed her first name followed by her last initial. Is she trying to remain mysterious? I already know her last name, but maybe she thinks I’m too stupid to retain information. She wants me to ask her what the letter stands for. Do you want to know what the weirdest thing is? Her birthday was not too long ago and I almost wrote something very similar, but didn’t because I feel like we have too awkward of a relationship to ever acknowledge we are two individuals. I forget what I wrote on her card. Something like “You intimidate me because you are attractive and actually a nice person. What’s your fucking deal?”

“Happy B-Day Mr. Tim. Thanks for joining the team and being so amazing. XO” – Another hug and kiss and I’m an amazing person? Well, tickle me pink I have an admirer.

But wait!!! That last one was written by a male. What. The. Fuck.

Until the XO at the end it’s fine and what he usually calls me. Amazing is his word he uses so that’s perfectly fine. It’s the XO I’m obsessing over. He wants to kiss and hug me??? No. Please. Stop. Does he even know what that means??? I really hope he was drafting out a football play and got lazy after drawing one offensive and one defensive player. What is wrong with this guy? I mean, I understand I am easy to love and all, but…just…no. I didn’t even realize he wrote that until a day too late to feel awkward around him. Maybe I’m thinking into this too much. Or maybe I’m so beloved that two people want to kiss and hug me.

Vlogs

A vlog is a video blog. So basically it’s a short movie nobody cares about. The only successful ones are the ones featuring an attractive girl who looks underage. I am not this. Instead of trying hard to make an interesting video, I have made this about a boring life event that happened to me recently. It was a lazy thing to do and I have felt very lazy lately.

Back Cysts & Dog Pictures

Sometime in mid-July I had a really bad back cyst pop up. Maybe this was even closer to the beginning of July. I don’t exactly track my back cysts like a slutty girl tracks her periods to make sure she’s not pregnant or menopausing early. At first I thought this was nothing more than a mega-pimple because I had a pimple in that spot for a while already. The position of this cyst was in the one place on my back I couldn’t possibly latch onto and pop so that’s why I let what I thought was a pimple just sit there instead of popping it early on. At one point I noticed the object growing and soon after I would enter some kind of hell.

I forget what happened that week, but it was a particularly bad one. I wasn’t getting any replies from any jobs I applied for and having nothing planned for the rest of my life was starting to get to me. Then this cyst came along and not only did it grow, it became tender and painful. I tried to pop it and got a little bit of the puss out. If you have ever dealt with a cyst you will know it smells terrible. It’s like farting into the mouth of someone with bad breath then having them suck on your nose. Why you would ever do this is a mystery to me, but I try not to judge.

Clearly I was not going to be able to get all of the puss out so I looked for other solutions online like I should have in the first place. It was then that I realized I was definitely dealing with a cyst and not a simple pimple. I discovered quickly that the worst thing you can do for a cyst is pop it because this can lead to an infection and cause the thing to grow even larger when it comes back for vengeance. The two best remedies I found online were to put ice on it to reduce swelling and to compress a hot wash cloth on it to get the cyst to drain. It’s like how they tell you to always be nice to women but how women only respond to you when you’re mean to them but when you are too mean they say they wish you were nicer. It was very confusing advice.

(“He told me to go fuck myself. I’m so in love.” – a confusing woman)

I spent about 4 days lying in bed trying to treat my cyst which at this point became so painful that when a shirt touched it I would start crying. At first I tried icing it and got no results so I switched to the heated wash cloth. I would lie on this hot wash cloth while watching Parks and Recreation on Netflix partly wishing I would die and partly thinking I already had. A little red bump on a back should not get this out of hand and be this painful.

A new week began and the cyst was still there, bigger and redder than before. Then things turned around completely. I finally got called in for a job interview. After stuttering through the brief interview process and bringing nothing to the table, I was asked to come back later in the week where I was given an immediate promotion that included more hours, my own office, and higher pay. The only downside is I think a few of my coworkers may hate me because part of the job is going on Facebook. I shouldn’t care though because having people hate you isn’t nearly as bad as having a painful back cyst.

As soon as I was hired I noticed something happen to my back cyst. It was draining on its own and after two weeks all signs of it were gone. The pain went away and my back has returned to looking like a normal 40 year old man’s back. I think I know the moment it began too. I leaned against something on the train and felt an incredibly pain in my back then a peace. It was better than my first orgasm because this didn’t involve apologizing to my grandma for ruining her sweater.

 (And yet she still wears the sweater…)

So where am I now? My back cyst is gone and I have a job I kind of like. I mean, I haven’t been there all too long and I still have the chance to hate it, but for now it’s nice. The only downside so far is that I have less time to do things I really enjoy doing and I’m exhausted all of the time. I slept 12 hours the Friday night after my first full week. I am getting more exercise though as I have to walk about three miles total each day I work so this is an excuse to eat more.

The best part about the job though is that I get to be around dogs. I’m not around them as much the other people there, but they do occasionally come into the office to hang out with me.

 

 

 

 

 

This isn’t what I would like to do for the rest of my life, but for now it’s pretty darn good. Then again, this might just be post-back cyst pleasure talking.

Working Personalities

I’m going to talk here more in-depth about a few people I met during my most recent job that involved me doing a lot of traveling around NYC. Some of the people I knew already while some I had seen and others I was meeting for the first time. Since I think of everything as a movie and each person is a character with their own unique personalities I decided I would write about some of the people I worked with. I’m not going to mention one person for sure because he said to me at one point “I’ll have to check out your website” which freaked me out because I had never told him I had one. Do I have a secret admirer?

The Sex Party Guy: I briefly mentioned in one piece I wrote about how someone told me about how he was in Germany he got invited to a sex party. I actually became very friendly with this guy over the course of the next two weeks. I still cannot decide if I hate him or think he’s the coolest person ever. I think the fact he’s so incredibly book smart yet has never eaten pumpkin pie bugs me. I thought this guy was perfect until I saw that he’s a 12% tipper. That kind of bugged me, especially since the money we were spending on dinner was technically paid for.

Can’t Tell If She’s Hot Girl: I only met this girl twice and I still have no clue if she’s hot or not. Whenever I meet a young female 21-28 I always try to stay near them because they smell so good. The first time we met she smiled at me and seemed to go out of her way to introduce herself to me. We stared each other down twice and smiled and that was pretty cool, especially since she might be hot. The second time it was me, her, and the sex party guy working. It was a very neutral day until they started talking about all of the traveling they’ve done around the world and all of a sudden I was taken out of the conversation for the next 30 minutes. They didn’t even give me a chance to jump in and tell them I’ve been to Idaho. That would have definitely beaten them going to China and South Africa.

(No apartheid or Communism. Idaho wins)

The Obnoxious Old Guy: There was one obnoxious old guy working with me some of the time and I could tell nobody liked him. He was one of those old guys who talks nonstop and thinks what he’s doing is very important. Clearly it wasn’t important because I was trusted to do this work too.

Germaphobe: One guy working with us was a germaphobe. I only knew this because he was obnoxious old guy’s stepson and he said his stepson, germaphobe, showers five times a day and drives everywhere because public transportation grosses him out. Germaphobe was the typical fat douche jock type who didn’t really give me any problems, but I imagine he’s probably hit a girlfriend at some point in his life.

(He’s going to have to cut off his shoulder now because she touched it)

That Woman I Stalked Online: One of the people I worked with I stalked online using only her first name and place she worked at. Success! I found her picture and Google Plus Account. Wouldn’t it be funny if I added her and said “Hey you’re like 35 and I think you are very attractive. Do you remember me? We never even touched and I said one thing to you and you stared at me when I said it.”

That Cute Blonde Girl: I’m insistent that this one cute blonde girl that worked at one of the schools I had to go to was obsessing over me. I’ll do crazy things like that though and obsess over someone then think they’re obsessing over me. When a female will purposefully look at me then smile I convince myself she wants me in her bed. I’m sure she was just being nice and probably thought compared to the obnoxious old guy or germaphobe I was the best option to procreate with incase the Apocalypse just happened to start.

The Indian: One day I worked solo with an Indian guy. Apparently he was a real dick and called up some girl I have a crush on that I’m not sure why because she’s not my type and asked who I was. In my imagination the girl described me as “Herculian” and “as charming as a snake playboy.” The Indian actually turned out to be pretty cool. We talked about comic books and movies the entire three hours we were together. He even told me he was once contracted to write an Indian version of Private Benjamin, a movie starring Goldie Hawn from many years ago. His friends in India wanted to turn it into a musical though because all movies in India must be musical. They told him to write songs for the film and he asked if they should be songs relating to the story. They told him no, that the songs could be completely random. And this is Exhibit A as to why I’m frustrated I’ve never had a movie I’ve written made.

(She’s out of her element an in over her head. Funny…)

The Mean Security Guard: There was one security guard I encountered a few times who seemed a little mean. I was looking for the head woman at a community center. Thinking her name was “New Orleans” pronounced the way they pronounce it in New Orleans (Naww-lins) I asked him where Naww-lins was. I said this like five times then he corrected me and thought for the rest of the week I was a racist.

There were also a lot of kids I interacted with. Some were megadouchebags and others were whatever the opposite of that is. It’s strange how unique our personalities can be. I think what makes it so strange is that we all end up living a lonely life then dying anyway so why bother being different? Am I right guys?

Train Moments

I’ve been working a job these last few weeks. I am such a sellout. No longer do I sit around in my underwear complaining about how no one appreciates me. Now I go out and try to earn my keep. I won’t go into too much detail about the job because I like to remain mysterious and I might get killed by the government if I really told. Let’s just say it involves going into Harlem and working with kids. Yes. My job involves working with Harlem school children. It’s like mating an elephant with an ice cream cone.

In order to get to Harlem I have to do a few things beforehand. The first of course is to actually put on pants. I’m rarely wearing pants when I’m home. I’d estimate 90% of my blogs have been written pantsless. Shit, 90% of everything I’ve ever written has been done pantsless. I do other things too like brush my teeth, drench myself in deodorant, and make sure the place is properly booby-trapped. I’m terribly paranoid of burglars and I never know when I may snap and have to have my place booby-trapped if police try to invade. The biggest adventure though happens when I grab my first train.

The first train I take only gets me one stop further. It’s a half hour walk away from my apartment to this train station and as the weather heats up I’ve been sweating pretty badly by the time I get there. It’s fine though. There’s usually a homeless woman with a burnt face sitting outside the train station so if I smell bad people may assume I gave her a friendly hug.

(Like this but not a superhero and asking for change)

When the train gets there I usually have to stand until the next stop where I have to transfer somewhere else. On this new train I can usually grab a seat. Sometimes I’ll stand if there are a lot of old people, women, or too much vomit on the seats. Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s vomit or soup. It’s one of those things you have to taste to really know.

I get off the train and by this point it’s really crowded. That’s when I switch over to the New York subway. I usually have to walk a block outside to get to the proper subway I need. The walk smells like piss or shit, depending on the temperature. The hotter it is, the shittier the smell. I always see at least one homeless person wandering about mumbling about how Ed Koch ruined their lives. There’s another spot I always see at least another homeless person. One day there was a hot homeless lady yelling into a cell phone. She said something like “You were such an ass to me before I went to prison and now you’re even worse!” I know she was homeless too because she had a cardboard sign explaining so. Why did she have a cell phone? Where do they mail the bill? And why was she out of my league?

(Like this but the one I saw was Spanish and clearly not a model trying to be ironic and possibly an Olsen twin)

I hop onto the subway after rushing my Metrocard through the scanner way too quickly. It doesn’t work when you do this which always makes you a target of rape, murder, asking you if you want to accept Jesus, and other terrible things natives do to tourists. I walk up the stairs and there I am, ready for my subway to arrive.

When I get on the train things usually clear out by the first stop after mine. I’ll grab a seat next to the prettiest girl because I enjoy being near pretty girls. Really though, why would I not sit near the prettiest girl? Am I going to find the fattest person and sit near him? No. That doesn’t make sense.

(The problem here is I wouldn’t know which foot to sit near and “accidentally” rub against)

Not too many strange things have happened on the trains so far. I’ve noticed the closer I get to Harlem the darker things get. I think it’s because the closer I get to Harlem the closer it gets to nighttime and the sun is getting closer to setting. See, that was a poorly written misleading race joke. You thought I meant because there are a lot of black people in Harlem which there are but that’s not what I meant.

By far the strangest thing that has happened on the train so far was when a homeless guy stepped on and started preaching about how women need to cover their butts. He said that men are too tempted by their butts and that they have to cover them more. He said to wear long coats. One woman turned her butt to him and he started yelling at her. Whenever he’d turn away someone would yell at him that he was sexist, which annoyed me because he wasn’t sexist, he was just insane. He even showed an example to everyone on how to properly cover your butt by pulling his shirt down to cover his butt. Then he started yelling about hellfire and sat down between me and the prettiest girl on the train. Thanks dude. You ruined my ride.

(He totally Dupree’ed me on this one)

My most recent ride on the train was the worst one yet. I was headed home and stuck jammed up against a door on an 80 degree day for 20 minutes while we waited for the delayed train to leave. The worst part happened when the train took off and all of the foreign men in suits lifted up their arms to grab onto something to hold. The stench was unbelievable. I want to start carrying around cookie dough with me to sniff just in case this happens again.

The train was especially crowded and the conductor told others attempting to climb on at other stops to wait and that there would be a less crowded train coming momentarily. One particularly chubby and pushy girl shoved the small Asian girl next to me, who even though the train was packed needed to read from her Kindle. The Asian girl almost fell down in between the circle of sweaty pitted men, but 8 years of karate helped her maintain balance. The pushy girl with ugly hair got on the train and stood there taking up too much room. I think I hated her face more than her hairy arms. She was still better than the guy with the unibrow. This train ride was terrible. Everyone from the girl with the mustache standing in front of me to the guy who kept falling asleep and touching my hand to the hot girl who spoke a goofy language that I think I elbowed in the face all stunk. And the worst part of all of this, I have to do it again tomorrow.

*The job has since ended and the only other thing of note that happened was I saw a homeless man with sweat pants full of shit sleeping on the subway. He looked like Santa Claus. Christmas will never be the same.