It's decided.
I'm stuck in my car at the train station. My car is dead and waiting for AAA. Which could be decades.
It's boring.
So I plan to get kidnapped by vikings, drink mead, and talk about pillaging.
(Cause being kidnapped by bears would make cuddling too hot, what with all that fur.)
Who wants to come?
Dear middle aged man,
Please do not play with the revolving exit door on the subway to amuse the young woman, who is much too young to be with you, thereby holding up everyone behind you.
Your age inappropriate attempt at teenage playfulness makes you look even creepier.
No love,
The person whose speed game you're messing up.
Yesterday, there were ominous weather forecasts and power outage warnings. They did not come to pass. Today, I am stuck indefinitely on a train due to mechanical failure in the train ahead of us.
Is the universe trying to tell me something?
Stay home, vixen, stay home. Horrible things await you this lovely, sunny Friday.
Eep.
Someone hold me.
And get me a flamethrower. Because everything is better with a flamethrower.
Oh. Oh no. Why lady? Who blackmailed you into wearing that... Thing...
It's baggy in the crotch, loose up to the knees and then tight and snug from the knees all the way down below the ankles.
Like some kind of monstrous mutated child of the harem pants.
No, lady, it isn't worth hiding your past as a courtesan to the head assassin to the drug cartels if the price is this.
Nothing is worth it.
Nothing.
Pretty sure yellow cab taxi drivers aren't earthlings. They're demons made from the ashes of the crushed dreams of youth.
Is it weird that the reasonably piercing honking of the train doesn't bother me or disturb my nap but the idiot who sat next to me in the quiet car so he could chat with the idiot who sat behind him, again let me emphasise - in the quiet car, makes me teeth gnashingly homicidal?
Food for thought or basis for an insanity plea... Hmm...
I think train seat habits are curious.
In the subway, where the seats mostly line the walls of the subway cars, with the occasional two seaters lining up perpendicularly, people seat every over space and then fill in the blanks without hesitation.
On the lirr, where the seats are all perpendicular, broken into double seat and triple seat benches, people don't hesitate to take the second seat in the double bench and the triple bench, leaving the middle empty in the latter scenario. But lots of people stand rather than ask for that middle seat on the triple bench.
So it is ok to get close if you're invading personal space on one side but not on both?
I think it is weird. I'd rather share than stand. But it is probably a function of western culture where we are trained to demand our space bubbles and share them as a sign of intimacy.
So in that middle seat there is no escape or lean away room and that, I guess, is a bubble violation.
But, the only way to guarantee your bubble is by staying home.
So thank you for moving over for me.
I solemnly swear to always shower and use minimal scented products.
Just for those who claim I am too negative (I'm looking at you, mom), today I give kudos to the otherwise unremarkable middle aged woman in casual business clothing.
You rock that royal blue polish, lady.
I don't want to be you when I grow up or anything but I do want your nail polish.
And no, mom, blue nails do not make me look like a drowning victim.
I've noticed in the last year or so that translucent tops are a thing.
Not professional for your industry? Too bad, wear a cami. Don't want an extra layer under your suit jacket and top in the summer heat? Too bad, suffer. Bwahahaha!
What the hell designers?
So naturally I've nearly stopped buying tops other than the occasional opaque one that sneaks through the net of stupid.
But you know, while I can nearly almost sort of (not at all) understand the thing with top... What gives with pants???
Just what is it, oh dear demented fashion maven, that you want me to wear between panties and summer dress pants? And tell the truth, you're not wearing this translucent nonsense are you... Because this is really just some kind of madcap plot the purpose to which is as opaque as your designs are translucent...
I'm onto you, you tricksy little imp... Onto you...
And I'm still not buying your translucent crap...at least not on purpose...
Dear Mr. Not As Cool As He Thinks,
I get that you're dressing down tour suit and not wearing a tie. But that is no reason to don black boat shoes WITHOUT socks in some kind of rebellion against the establishment. It doesn't work and you look stupid.
Yes even more stupid than the young woman next to you tryin to dress her business casual outfit with fifteen dopey bead bracelets on top of her watch.
You're wearing a wedding ring. So if you won't think of the world, at least don't embarrass your spouse.
Love,
The woman in the cute turquoise sandals (because I understand proper footwear).
That was about big brother government right?
Well, buddy, it's a lot less deep when you wear yours on the subway, on a fairly cool evening.
So do I have to be injured for fellow humans to show a shred of incipient humanity? Apparently getting black smudges on my hand yesterday, probably during my morning train nap, and then transferring them to my face in a picturesque fashion is insufficient for a kind soul to pause and warn me.
If I hadn't caught sight of the smear of black on my nose from the corner of my eye, I would have walked into my destination marked up like the little cinder girl. Which was a look that explained why the woman on the train glanced at me and laughed. But not why no one told me!
Bah, humans.
Universe 1, vixen 1.
Also, someone stepped on my foot on the return trip. It hurt.
Universe 1, vixen 2.
I know, gentle reader, that I am usually frothing at the mouth with homicidal yet witty rage at the various uncouth antics of my fellow humans.
Yesterday, the universe undertook to remind me that humans possess kindness and courtesy. (And yes New Yorkers just as much as any others.) I would like to take this moment to point out to the universe that my blog is merely a snapshot of my thoughts and I don't think all humans are a waste of genetic material. Just many. Thus, dear universe, please refrain from further reminders.
So there I was, gentle reader, ambling sleepily just outside of the train station in my cute Aerosole wedge sandals and my bad ankles. As the universe and my bad ankles would have it, that was when, for the billionth time ever, my left ankle turned itself and I stumbled.
Those of you who know me have seen this happen time and time again. I catch myself, curse salaciously, wait for the stabbing pain to subside as I walk it off and go on about my day.
Alas, not yesterday.
I double stumbled and then attempted to face plant myself into the pleasantly warm Manhattan pavement. My palms saved my face from that unfortunate fate but nonetheless, gentle reader, there I was, on the ground, ankle throbbing, my bag flung away from me, cursing up a veritable tsunami.
And would you know that some passers by immediately stopped, assisted me to my feet, got my bag for me and made sure I was okay.
I'm fairly certain, a day later, that my ankle is either strained or sprained. But yes, universe, I will concede that while it was with a limping gait that I continued my journey, my fellow humans did uplift more than my clumsy physical shell.
But be wary, universe. This is not over...
I got an old style lirr train today. It's been a long time since I've been on one. I rediscovered how much more comfortable the seat architecture of these old trains is for naptime.
So the question begs... Why would they change it?
Dear idiot man,
The wannabe thug look is extra stupid when you try to execute it with a suit. Suit pants are not meant to hang off your thighs.
My eyes may never recover.
You suck.
No love,
Your long suffering superior being.
Idiots just got told by the conductor. And, like the maturity level they have thus far displayed, they immediately pointed fingers at each other. "He did it!"
Ah sweet silence.
Dear bunch of drunk men on the train,
Your very loud yammering, obnoxious comments and that thing you think is flirting but is really just pathetic are not, in fact cute. And if you can predict that you will be kicked off the train then trust me when I say that the rest of us are holding our breaths, waiting for it.
Please go away now before I snap.
No love,
The woman trying to explode your heads with her mind.
Dear idiot woman who thinks she's flirting with the super drunk bunch,
You're encouraging the stupid. If karma doesn't get you, I will.
No love,
The cranky traveler.
PS to all of you, threatening to kick people in the balls is not funny.
Maybe it's not just my imagination... Got stuck in a possessed elevator in the Court building... They're after me...
My imagination might need curbing.
I discovered a small wound on my knee last night that I probably got from knocking myself into the door or the credenza or the dresser or...you get the picture.
This morning I am contemplating if it is the remnants of an alien probe or a government dart.
Good goods, I need help. Or chocolate. I vote chocolate.
Dear backwards cap guy,
Not only are your fashion choices highly dubious, but you also sat next to me and proceeded to chomp on what appeared to be a bacon, egg and cheese on a roll.
I'm trying to eat sensibly and the smell of cheesy bacony goodness is. Not. Helping.
I highly recommend you sit next to someone else next time. And turn your hat around.
No love,
Your cranky bench mate.
