Train walking=NOT sexy
First and foremost do not get train walking confused with street walking, while they may appear to be very similar in technique, the goals are sllllightly different. I don’t hide that I like to people watch so let me tell you…the subway=great entertainment. During the morning commute you can’t really see a lot since you are crammed into a train car like clowns in a Beetle in the circus. But when you hit the train just right when there is room to move around, let the show begin!
There are many versions of train riders: leaners, too-macho-to-hold-on, sleepers, door addicts, etc. Personally, the most entertaining are the ladies in the spike high heels that try to keep their “sexy walk” in tact while walking in a moving train. They are the ones that for some random reason feel the need to get up and strut to the door before the train stops. First of all…your name ain’t Gisele. Second, a Boston Orange line car is NOT a catwalk. And third, you look stupid. (Was that last one a little to blunt?)
So here I am, people watching on the ride home the other day, when Giselesome girl in 4 inch stilettos and a mini dress decides she wants to be the first off of the train. She stands up (looking all diva) and then tries to “sexy walk” to the door. FAIL. Even though she committed to her part and tried her best, AT MOST, she looked like a drunk, pregnant penguin walking during an earthquake. Big side steps and letting out an “oops” every now and then when she pierced someones foot with her heel, it wasn’t pretty. But it was highly entertaining!
The shoes were hot, purple patent leather, rock on. So I’m not saying trade her footwear for a nice velcro easy spirit, but just keep your but in the seat until the train stops. If you are then able to accomplish the sexy walk …you will be getting looks for the right reasons.
TO RECAP:
does NOT equal
Nuts get a bad wrap
When I was a junior in high school we had to do science projects. For some unknown reason I decided to do caloric values of nuts which in essence you find out by lighting them on fire. In high school, I was like many other teens, not in with the cool kids…not looking hot…I was what I like to refer to as in the lukewarm area. So here I am in Mr. Valenti’s AP chem class with a mix of some popular seniors (aka the hot boys) and nerds (aka us) announcing my topic title. The second I unfolded my Staples trifold display board I heard the snickers…”How hot are your nuts?” was written in a snazzy fire like font across the top. Mr. Valenti wasn’t so sure how to respond so he moved on to the next kid. Eventhough I was highly amused I felt like saying “PEOPLE! We’re taking about cashews, peanuts, almonds, etc.” Freakin’ teenagers.
I’m not an idiot, I knew the alternate meaning of the title but didn’t think it was a big deal. The simple phrase captured the essence of my study. Then Mr. Valenti approached me in the hallway and said “I’m not so sure about your title, you know what it sounds like right?” Right there, in the corridor I realized how hard nuts have it. I moved on, lived my life, and then came a random conversation a couple of nights ago.
The girls and I were snacking on something, whether it was trail mix or cookies I forget, but I know it wasn’t healthy. OH it was macadamia nut cookies…I took a bite and innocently stated, “you know, nuts are great. I can’t think of one I don’t like.” The silent pause was broken by cackles all around and I was brought back to AP chem. Perverts. Is it funny? Absofrickinlutely, but I feel bad for the various delectable seeds.
Nowadays when anyone after Gen Y says ”nuts” for some reasons their minds go straight to the gutter and think of male anatomy. I guess I can’t complain though, because once word got out in high school about my project, ”How hot are your nuts?” was the most popular display at the fair!
I kissed a boy and I liked it
I bet that title got your attention…pervert. The purpose of this post is to discuss music…not the weekend’s escapades. So for most of the day today Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” was stuck in my head. For all of you Freudians out there, there is no need to read in to that. It was stuck in my head because the kids on the next street decided to sing it over and over on their karaeoke machine in their backyard. Over and over. And over. After the 15th rendition that sounded exactly like every other attempt, I wondered why there hasn’t been a gender remix yet.
I actually just heard you say “huh?” so let me clarify. When Beyonce came out with “If I Were a Boy” it took all about 2 days for the “If I Were a Girl” remix with Lee Carr. So what kind of statement does it make about our society when there has yet to be “I Kissed a Boy” sung by someone with a Y chromosome? OK So it isn’t really a hot topic issue, but seriously! I would bet $1000 that if this song came out in the 80’s George Michael would be buying the remix rights faster than you can wake me up before you go go. But then Boy George would get in a fight with GM for the rights and would keep asking “Do you really want to hurt me?” (a little too dramatic…dontcha think) with FGTH in the corner saying RELAX! Maybe it’s a good thing that this song didn’t come out until 2008!
Woodman’s in Essex…good but greasy
Plates from Woodman's
I am an Asian man’s pillow
Yes, you read the title correctly. For some reason when I am on public transportation, Asian men subconsciously think my shoulder is a pillow. I first noticed this a while ago on a flight back from the west coast. While I was trying to sleep in my sliver of a seat next to the window, I felt a nudge. You may be thinking…what was the nudge? Because I was too. When my pseudo sleep haze cleared I realized it was the older Asian gentleman to my left who would fall asleep, bump into me and then rebound to his own personal space. Not once, not twice, but continuously for at least 3 hours. A few times he didn’t do the rebound thing and ended up invading my bubble and leaning on my shoulder. As if being on a plane for 6 hours with recycled air that includes millions of dead skin cells and bacteria wasn’t enough, I was now threatened by a stranger’s drool. Ick much?
Then today I was on the train in to Boston, when a flashback hits. No I wasn’t in Nam but I was nudged. Yes that’s right, I was nudged. And guess what type of human was next to me…an older Asian man. Now since it is the subway there is some clearance for nudging due to the natural motion of the train, this was not that type of nudging. This guy was unconscious with his chin in his chest, his head moving like a bobble doll. And where do you think that head landed more than once? If you guessed my shoulder…YOU’RE RIGHT! Good for you…not so good for me. Luckily every time we reached a station the momentum of the train would pull him towards his other neighbor and then when the train started Mr. Bobble Head sloooowly found his way back to me.
And it’s not like I wear 80’s shoulder pads that would call out to a weary head. I’m not afraid to admit, I have bony shoulders. So I don’t understand why I am/have become a sleeping Asian man’s pillow. But I guess I am good at it or else it wouldn’t keep happening…maybe I should start charging rent!
People do stupid things when stuck in traffic
We’ve all been there, cruising along the highway when you run into a sluggish wall of taillights. You were in the groove, with the windows down and your music on thinking you were going to make it to your destination in record time. Then comes poor city planning. It is someones bright idea to work on rte 93 going into Boston on Friday and Saturday nights 8PM-5AM. Not only due construction, but whittle four lanes of traffic into one. They would have happier drivers if they just kept it during the week, but who am I to try to make the people happy. Silly, silly me!
Back to the point, it’s a Friday night and people have the goal of heading in to Boston for a few drinks (to get drunk), a nice dinner (consisting of bar fare), or maybe a show (seeing drunk people claim they are “completely sober”). Some of my fellow traffic-goers may have already started the evening (passengers I hope) with their favorite beverage. I know at least one gentleman was in this group, because I heard him tell the cop he was “completely sober.” So you may ask, how did I see all this in bumper to bumper traffic? Well I’ll tell you. I just switched lanes and was waving thanks to the flashy Beamer behind me when out jumped the passenger. This Mensa student decided he was going to walk to Boston, because it would be faster. Gee, why didn’t I think of that? Could it be because we were about 10 miles from Boston on a HIGHWAY at NIGHT?! I laughed because I have the habit of laughing at stupid people, but I stopped when I saw the blue lights. Now I can’t be sure if the arrival of the 5-0 was coincidence or someone called them , but nonetheless it provided some entertainment.
The cruiser is coming up the breakdown lane and turns on his lights, Mensa is still walking, the cruiser is about 100 yds away, dude is still walking. The walker must have been really set on walking in to Boston because he only noticed the cops when they honked. And what does this highly intelligent being do? Jog over to the cruiser. Yes, I’m sure that is what cops love to see, someone running at their cruiser on a busy highway in the dark. At this point, ALL of my windows are down and my radio is off just to be nosy. I can hear snippets of their convo, something like-Mensa: “I’m fine, completely sober” Cop:”You an idiot?’ M: “No, just walking…” and then a noisy truck pulled up and I couldn’t hear anything else. Bastard, get a tune up. The next thing I know, the smarty pants is jogging back to his own car where the driver has graciously pushed open the door. ( I’m thinking next time the driver should probably put on the child locks. ) And off went Mr. Officer. If I were the cop I would have recommended the guy play in traffic…dressed in black….when the cars are going 70mph, but then again, I’m just a person in traffic with nothing better to do.
I won the lottery…
..of Nigeria and Ireland all in the last week. And to put icing on the cake, a diplomat was stopped crossing the border with USD$1million of my inheritance. What’s next Publisher’s Clearing House?
You would think that the IRS and media would be knocking on my door, but alas, my front lawn is empty. Maybe they don’t know yet. I’m sure they will find out when I give the lotteries all of my personal information and then even Oprah will want an interview. Op and I will be buddies…she’ll be my girl! Large companies will be asking me for bailout money, because I am now LOADED. Screw the Jeep, there is a Maserati out there with my name on it.
To give you proof, here is an excerpt from one of my notices that started with Dear friend (isn’t that lovely):
During our interrogation on why this fund was not transfer to your bank account, the diplomat revealed that some people want to divert this your inheritance fund, so he decided to act fast by moving the fund through this means.
It is so well written, it must be true. After all aren’t we supposed to believe everything we read on the interwebs?
The sad thing is, people believe this.
Time to take down the Xmas decorations!
It’s sunny, 65 degrees, there are leaves on the trees, flowers in the garden and pollen covering my car….but there are still Christmas wreathes on doors! I don’t get it. I can’t comprehend why people leave their wreathes and lights up forever. It’s one thing if it’s the end of February and you are still clinging to the memories of Christmas past, but when even Santa is on the beach getting a tan….you need to move on.
So needless to say I was more than slightly irked when I was driving yesterday and saw at least 2 houses with wreathes. And it’s not like I was driving for 3 hours, this was over the course of about 3 miles. Now, wreathes are usually hung on your front door. A door you use to go in and out of your house once, if not many times, each day. A door that you have people coming in and out of. Well pooh on these guests for not drawing your attention to what is clearly a holiday decorating taboo and pooh on you for being so freakin’ oblivious.
One of the afore mentioned houses had dried out evergreen wreaths on all of it’s front windows. It was like a Christmas graveyard. one match and that house is going UP. Sure, leave up the real wreathes to get your money out of the expensive tree branch, but once they become skeletons of their former selves….give it up…now you are just lazy.
I would do all of these people a favor and take down their decorations for them at night, like a little gnome. Of course then they would call the police because there is a strange girl all in black “vandalizing” their property and it would just get ugly. So if this irks you as much as me, grab a friend and knock on the offenders door and offer politely to remove their decorations. I just wouldn’t recommend doing it at night….
Deodorant goes on BEFORE the gym
Gyms are not the most spacious of areas. Usually, the treadmills and ellipticals are practically stacked on each other and the weight machines are so close to the neighbor they barely touch. Personally, I value my personal bubble. Yes, I am the girl that will look for an elliptical with one or two open on either side allowing me my personal space. Unfortunately for me, that bubble is not impenetrable, especially by odor. The boy in the bubble had the right idea with his own air supply! Anyway, there I am sweating away at the gym and minding my own business when my Spidey senses go off. A wisp of onion tinted body odor floats my way.
On the off chance that it was me, I take one of the secret sniffs. You know the kind, when you bring up the collar of your T-shirt to wipe your face, but you are really checking to see if you are stinky. It wasn’t me, I was Secret Shower Fresh, so I peer around. No one to my left but to my right…5 machines down..was a guy with the fan pointed right at him. And lucky me, I was down wind. I was 3/4 of the way done so I wasn’t about to change machines. So I became a mouth breather. For some reason the idea of the icky air going in my mouth was better than having to inhale the man’s stench, at least I could wash it out with some Crystal Light.
Now, I know some people may be allergic to deodorant/anti-perspirant, but there has to be an alternative. Spray yourself with room spray, Febreeze, or keep dryer sheets in your armpits, do ANYTHING that will take the edge off of your personal fragrance while enhancing the air for the rest of us! Because if you have ever shared space with a person with BO, you know those scent molecules become superglued to your nostrils and you are stuck with the smell for at least a couple of hours.
Now I know this is touch to remember but the routine goes deodorant, clothes, gym, shower, deodorant….lather, rinse, repeat.
