Search This Blog

Nonsense Drivers of the Road


We all get frustrated when driving.  ...Doesn't matter if we drive casually, if we drive as part of our daily commute, or only when renting a car on vacation.  The frustration is usually instigated by heavy traffic, or stupid ass drivers.  

Here is a list of chronic offenders:

Women - I cannot truly describe how bad women are at driving.   I could not tell you the amount of times I used to drive to work and see women in the car putting on makeup - ON THE HIGHWAY!   Not to mention the constant breaking, wheel jerking and slow driving.  Yes, the speed limit says 55, but guys know that this is more of a "guideline" and anything over 70 is really where you start to gamble with law enforcement.

When I am asked to parallel park or pull into a spot for a woman, that says something.  But for some reason, men have to pay more for car insurance.  How can that be? [Editor: because men like to drink and drive].

Now granted, not all women are bad drivers (e.g., Danica Patrick), but let me just say that women are MUCH better at "riding" than "driving"...if know what I mean ;) ;)

Senior Citizens - I totally understand that when you get old, you hate to "not be able to do things for yourself."  ...Totally understandable.  But let me say this seniors, driving is not one of those things.  When you have trouble hearing the person on the other end of the phone or have trouble reading text, why the hell should you be allowed to drive?  I mean, I would have to try with all my might to drive as slow as seniors.  And they cause the worst accidents.  Whenever there's a crazy news article about a driver mowing down a sidewalk of people, or crashing through a store, 9 times out of 10, its an oldie.  Old people and Asians are probably tied for the worst drivers.  

Asians - Asian drivers make the phrase "Asian car" an oxymoron.  Considering how awful Asian drivers are across the board, I am dumbfounded by the quality craftsmanship Asian car manufacturers produce.  I have always been able to tell from far away when someone is an Asian driver.  They seriously do the dumbest things.  Left turn signal to make a right; 8 attempts to parallel park; wont turn left when having to yield on a green light (they'll even move up to the middle of the intersection to turn and once the light hits yellow, they wont go -thus blocking traffic.  And when they try and back up, they most likely back into you.)  

If you are driving near or around a female, Asian senior citizen, you have single-handedly created a life threatening situation for yourself.  

Cabbies - Just all around the most annoying (and smelly) of all drivers on the road.  Since living in New York and on a fairly bustling street, I realize that I will have to deal with traffic sounds.  But the level of honking dished out by cabbies in major cities is just preposterous.  Here's a tip cab driver: less honk, more deodorant.  

Men - Only to be fair, I must speak to my own kind.  On average, I do consider us to be the best drivers, but that doesn't mean we don't have our share of douche bag drivers.  I cannot stand the: 
  • guys who constantly change lanes in traffic thus causing the people behind to break and further slow down traffic
  • guys who play music so loud that people three states away can hear, 
  • guys who take 2 spots to park their brand new Pontiac (Women do double park out of incompetence, not to "protect" their 15k automobile purchase) 

While I know that there are other demographics that could be included, I will end here.   

...And We're Back

Loyal Readers-

Apologies from the lack of posts.  I have recently returned from about two and a half weeks of traveling.  Be on the lookout for a new post in the coming days.  My brain has to get back to neutral.  

Subway FreshBuzz: "It's Hell"

After a long three years of taking the subway from the Upper East Side to Brooklyn for school, and now constantly traveling from the Upper East Side to the West Village to visit Adam (ps – awesome subway planning NYC, way to make it absolutely impossible to go from East to West. I mean, because don’t most people only ever need to go North to South?), I have been exposed to all that the wonderful MTA system has to offer. Below, I consider the most nonsensical and attempt to simultaneously analyze and mock.

1) Intrastate Tourists (IST) – I don’t hate on actual tourists who are speaking French or Japanese and genuinely trying to make sense of the subway stops. Intrastate Tourists refers to people from Staten Island, Westchester, and Long Island City (and the like – I don’t discriminate) who really should be able to interpret a subway map but who either 1) cannot for the life of them do so, or 2) think they are really capable but actually have no clue.

You can identify the first kind as follows: the male IST stands hunched over the laminated wall map, mouth agape, his giant gold-ringed finger tracing the R train’s path and becoming increasingly stymied. His girlfriend comes over, pokes her hairsprayed bangs in the way, and uses her sparkled Lee Press On to show her man where he misunderstood. They argue, come to a decision after some yelling, and, ultimately, get off at the wrong stop.
You can identify the second kind of IST thusly: The IST is often leading a group of his fellow tourists on an excursion to the city, most likely for a hockey game, Def Leppard concert, or night of belligerence at the Blarney Stone. The IST is very confident, assuring his pals that he has done this many times when he “worked in the city”. His leather jacket and gelled hair gleaming with confidence, he stands in the middle of the car, refusing to look at the map. He is loud and often carrying a Colt 45 in a paper bag. At his direction he and his ISTs, ultimately, get off at the wrong stop.

2) Smelly Subway Platforms –I’m aware that the subway isn’t ever going to be immaculate. But seriously what are these bizarre smells on the platform? Sometimes they are so shocking that I actually want to bottle them and have them analyzed. It’s gotten so bad, actually, that has created a “Subway Smells” chart, so that you can be aware of which odors will be offending your nose at each particular station.
My top 3 offending stations:

59th and Lex – I apparently am the only one who is sensitive to this station, but honestly, it smells like dead people and feet. It’s absolutely horrendous and it’s what I imagine hell smells like.

Canal Street – This stop smells like a dead fish wearing cheap cologne on a date to Kentucky Fried Chicken. Enough said.

West 42nd Street – its as if the subway platform has harnessed the smell of pigeon feces, urine, and homeless people that plagues the Port Authority Bus Terminal and concentrated it down to a powerful, nose-hair killing gas that could defeat even Superman.

3) Fat Person Taking Up the Subway Bench – Oh, I’m sorry… did I attempt to sit in the seat reserved for your FUPA? No, no, don’t bother getting up for the geriatric woman and her granddaughter, you just make sure that your ass that has its own zip code is nice and comfy. I mean, honestly, what is with this? How do people who are 150+ pounds overweight get this weird sense of entitlement? Most of these people are already “entitling” themselves to not following any dietary restrictions, not ever going to the gym, and wearing stretch pants to all occasions – yes, I can see how that’s so exhausting that they do deserve the entire subway bench. I know the subway is free and no one pays per seat, but next time I see this, I think I might have to sit myself down on someone’s potbelly… and hope to come out alive. (Note: Yes, yes, I also took health in high school, I know that not everyone is obese because they eat and don’t work out. And to all you genuinely thyroid challenged folks out there, I really am sorry, feel free to keep sitting on the subway. However, I watch the Biggest Loser [religiously… and cry] and all I know is that most of these cats are just eating like Armageddon is coming and Bruce Willis doesn’t have room for them on the ship.)

4) Voice Immodulation Disorder Affected Conductors – Why are you yelling at me, conductor? I heard you the first time when you told me that at South Ferry only the first 5 doors open – I think the people on the subway behind us heard you, in fact. Are you mad at me, conductor? I know I said I would take only your train every day, but sometimes I’m running late and you know, I take what I can get. What’s that? You don’t want me to stand in the door? Can you make sure you speak a little bit closer to your microphone? I don’t think you’ve yet reached the volume at which all your words turn to static – yea that’s, it, where you sound like angry aliens attempting to contact Earth. Thank you, conductor, for adding yet another dimension of pleasure to my ride.

5) Dick In A Box – this is the genius subway personnel who sits at the subway entrance in a clear, bulletproof chamber, as if this person who I only ever see filing her nails or napping is at all times in imminent danger of being assassinated. No, you can no longer buy a Metrocard from the Dick In A Box, nor can he or she give you change, a map, or anything else useful. The Dick In A Box’s sole purpose, I’m convinced, is to confuse the hell out of tourists and bolster the MTA’s numbers so they can get a higher budget for those classy MTA caps (btw, what’s with those hats? It’s as if they want us to be like “Oh heyyy, it’s a cop! No, wait, it’s an MTA employee, but because he’s wearing that hat, he must be worthy of respect! Yay MTA, please raise the fare to $3 a ride! Whee!”).

Thou Shalt Not Worship Idols - but American Idol is A-OK


American Idol season is upon us and if you are like me, you love it, and if you are like Adam, you are forced into watching it by your significant other. The show is considered by some to be nonsensical, and the voting is definitely nonsensical, so I felt it to be appropriate fodder for our blog. Regardless of your feelings for the show, you probably watch it and you’ll admit they have some real characters on this year. I find several of them incredibly entertaining and some not so much. But as the show is in its early stage, where all the finalists are still around (minus Jasmine and more Jorge… I LOVE YOU JORGE!) I thought it was about time that I dedicate a post to the power that is American Idol. For those non-believers, go read Adam’s post below about airport assholes… its entertaining yet cynical, which you’ll probably like.

Adam Lambert – The Guilty Pleasure: Adam, the eyeliner-wearing judge’s pet, is my current guilty pleasure. The dude couldn’t be more ludicrous, couldn’t have worse skin, and definitely couldn’t be less of the “bad boy” he pretends to be. But lord help me, I love that Jewish, gay, flamboyant dynamo. He is so ballsy, I just can’t help myself. How can you be confident wearing leggings, a baby blue leather jacket, a 1995-style chain wallet, and a Christian Siriano faux-hawk/mullet? I don’t know, but Adam does it and I just can’t hate.

Scott MacIntyre – The Blind Guy Who It Seems Wrong to Make Fun of Yet You Kinda Want To: OK firstly, Scott has grown on me. His Michael Jackson song was very pretty and I’m getting less weirded out by his curly, baby-cupid style hair. However, those eyes… yes I know he is legally blind, but oh my goodness am I the only one who feels like he is staring into the depths of my soul?! Between the fear that he is putting a Children of the Corn spell on me and the guilt I feel when I giggle at his part in the group dances, I don’t know how much longer my nerves or conscience can handle Scott on the show.

Kris Something – The Kinda Hot Random Guy: Who is voting for this dude? I mean he’s ok, pretty cute, whatever, but an American Idol? I don’t think so. Also, who spells Chris like Kris? It reminds me of the actor Kris Kristofferson who scares the crap out of me (anyone see Blade II or The Jacket? After those, he’ll scare you too). But props on the guitar, at least I get some feeling of my long lost Jason Castro this year. If Kris brings out some white-guy dreds, then maybe we’ll talk.

Alison Iraheta – The Great Singer Who Looks and Sounds Like a 40 Year Old Single Mom: Alison has an awesome voice and her singing Heart’s “Alone” last week immediately won me over (all the Heart fans, say hay oh!). But the hair, the voice, the interviews, and the still-remaining bottom braces… I don’t know, man. Her hair color is straight out of a Manic Panic jar, her 50-year old smoker’s voice would put La Lohan to shame, and her comment during judging about self-mutilation… really Alison? You’re gonna talk about cutting on Idol? Why don’t you start telling everyone about how you spend your welfare checks on crack next time? That might be more appropriate. And Ali, no matter what Paula says, your hair does NOT look good… try a human color. The pinkish hair trend was killed once all of the contestants on Rock of Love Charm School adopted it.

Matt Giraud – The Emotional Wreck: Matt has a great voice and I like him. But his looking like he is constantly going to burst into tears is really starting to make me uncomfortable. I feel like he’s the guy you’ve dated for 2 weeks and are breaking up with and is creepily about to start weeping in the Starbucks. Keep it together, Matt, or else I’m gonna take my vote to another piano-bar singing, Justin Timberlake wannabe… don’t make me threaten you, you know I hate when you make me like this!! (insert backhand slap)

Lil Rounds – The Booty: Damn, girl! That is some SERIOUS junk in the trunk. Adam has a 50-inch TV and the size it looks on that thing… wow. All I know is that if she wins, they’re going to have to put a fold out insert in her CD to capture her whole ass.

Anoop Desai – The Awesome Non-Kumar Indian Guy: Anoop is doing for Indian guys across the country what Miley Cyrus did for her dad – making something kinda nerdy and obscure into something super cool and relevant. Seriously, I think the number of intellectual Indian guys across America who are going to get college ass because of Anoop will be off the hook. What with Slumdog Millionaire sweeping the Oscars and Indian food being so delicious (I just discovered this so I’m still excited), Anoop has got some real clout behind him. It’s the year of the Indian and I don’t mean the one who cries about littering. Go Anoop dog!

So yes, I could go on and talk about Alexis Grace (eat a sandwich and try going outdoors – you are probably really Vitamin D deficient), Megan Cokrey (nice tattoo sleeve, that was a really great drunk decision you made… about as good as the one to have unprotected sex), and Michael Sarver (he’s hot and cool, don’t really have anything funny to say), but I think my post hath runneth over. Feel free to leave comments about anyone I missed, lampooned, or went too lightly on. Much love, Idol watchers!

Part Duex: Airport Assholes


Due in part to the positive feedback I received on “Airport Amateurs”, in part because there is so much nonsense that happens in an airport, and the fact that I'll be taking a transatlantic flight this Friday (March 13 if you aren't sure which Friday I'm talking about), I have decided to post a sequel to the other half of Airport Amateurs:  The Airport Assholes.

The airport assholes are namely everyone in an airport that wears an ID badge around their neck: TSA agents, airline personnel, and airport employees.  These people are probably the most miserable people in existence.  And rightly so - they work at an airport!

In a slightly different layout then before, I will bullet the class of asshole and provide a brief description.

The Gate Agent – This is the person that could have been Hilter’s number two if given the opportunity.   They are easily the biggest gaping assholes at the airport.  They hate work, people and pretty much everything that life has to offer – they are the face and customer service of the airline industry.  Gate agents are there to make sure you have the worst possible travel experience possible.  Running a little late to your flight?  They’ll make sure your seat was given to someone else.  Trying to switch out of your middle seat on the plane?  Go fuck yourself.  Attempting to get on standby?  They’ll make sure you don’t get on stand-by AND they’ll give up your seat on the original flight.  Gate agents beat their children.   

The TSA AgentTSA agents are nothing more than bouncers with a uniform.  They try and act like BSDs (Big Swinging Dicks) cause they can tell you to do stuff before you walk through a metal detector.   Instead of really looking for terrorists, they are busy combing an old lady with a metal hip using their metal detector wand. 

“Oh, you want to grope me because I was acting with insubordination?  That’s fine, I’ll take my shoes off…I’ll remove metal objects and place them in tray.  But guess what?  When I get through security, I’m leaving the 4 trays I used for YOU to collect.” 

The Ticketing Agent – I have never met such an inept group of monkeys.  The job requirements of this position are to stand in front of a computer, check people in or help those that have ticketing issues.  In reality, most cannot speak a lick of English and act like they have never interacted with a computer before. 

Traveler: “Um...yes, my flight got cancelled.  Can you please get me on the next available flight?”

Ticket Agent: “Hold on, sir, let me see what I can do.” 

They’ll spend the next 15 minutes typing away like they are transcribing courtroom proceedings.  Then they will pull another ticket agent away from someone checking in, to assist them in arbitrarily pointing to the computer screen - all in a concerted effort that concludes with them telling you that the system is not allowing them to issue any tickets, and that you’ll have to go to the gate for a ticket.  What they really mean is they are too retarded to work the application which is the cornerstone of their job, and that you’ll have to try your luck with the gate agent.  If you already forgot, please see above as to what you can expect from the gate agent.  Side note: Why is the system that the gate agents use different than what the ticketing agents use?!

The Golf Cart Drivers – These are the folks that cart cripples and beached whales around the airport.  They are usually clocking 25 in a 1, honking like crazy and willing to clip any motherfucker that gets in their way.  These people have the audacity to  think that WE ARE THE ASSHOLES because we are not walking backwards to see them coming.  Its like a Hollywood movie where there’s a high speed chase in a bustling market.

Restaurant/Hudson News Workers – These people are just assholes for charging $3 for gum, $4 for Aquafina (toilet water) and having a dollar menu at McDonalds that only consists of the apple pie.

Airport Information – These people know their way around the airport no better than you or me.  If you have never asked a question at the airport information booth, do it next time.  I promise, you will walk away shaking your head and grimacing from disbelief at the complete incompetence. 

Baggage loaders – You don’t typically interact verbally with these folks, but you interact with them visually: out of the window at the gate or perhaps from your window seat on the plane.  These guys make it a point to completely fuck up your luggage.  If you check-in you luggage brand new, you better believe you are going to get it on the other end with bent or missing zippers, the “ballistic” nylon on your suitcase slashed, or if you’re really lucky, your shit just straight up disappears.  I have a gash on my rollerboard that could only have been made with a deliberate swipe of a box cutter.


Flight Attendants – In all honestly, this is a crap shoot.   Some flight attendants are really cool and give you beer or a mini vodka for free.  Other times, whether male or female, they act like they had bad buttsex the night before and are determined to take it out on you.  Namely, by crushing your elbow, foot or head with the drink cart.  And to really piss you off, they’ll ask you to please move said body part AFTER they’ve given you the free contusion.

The Pilot - The leader of the aircraft, the one person who decides if you’re going to live or die today.  This guy is usually on his high horse because he is king of the vessel.  Below is a slight dramatization of the pilot’s speech from my last flight.  "This is your Captain speaking; we'd like to thank you choosing (insert shitty airline here) to fly to Tampa today.  We should be landing in Tampa at 3:52.p.m, but don't hold me to that because I've been drinking Old Crow Whiskey and snorting lines since 9:00 a.m.  I'm so lifted right now I couldn't even tell you my gender. Our cruising altitude today is going to be around 35,000 feet and winds are moving south to southwest. Not like you proletariat back in coach even care about this shit.  When the fasten seat belt sign is off, feel free to move about the cabin, but while it’s on, keep your asses in the fucking seats.  Now would be a good time to turn off your iPods, laptops and vibrators, for you whores out there.  Even though these electronic devices have no bearing whatsoever on the success of the take off or landing, we want to be sure that you are completely alert should this plane go down.  We at (less than reputable airline name) would feel terrible if you were to die on this aircraft and you missed all the fright filled action because you were sleeping to the sweet sounds of James Taylor.  Also, you should be aware that if something goes awry, you will likely die.   Because lets face the facts, we have nothing but mountain ranges in front of us and the whole Sully Sullenberg thing was a one-off.  Now sit back and enjoy the flight, and thanks again for flying with (Bankrupt airline name)."    

The Co-Pilot - He generally doesn't speak during the flight as his lips are firmly wrapped around the Captain's cock, which makes him not only an asshole, but a cocksucker. 

The Taxi Stand Attendants – Thank you for pointing me to a cab directly in front of my face.   I could not have undertaken the task without you.  

And finally, just a random funny picture:

Party People in the House say "Ay Oh!"

I had the privilege of attending two house parties this weekend, one of them all the way in Connecticut (shout-out to my new friends in Westport… wherever on the map that is)! Even though the parties consisted primarily of people unknown to me, the similarities among certain people has led me to believe that at many parties there will be characters – those who are consistent among groups of friends and who find themselves fulfilling similar roles at every gathering. Below, I describe.
(Note: These descriptions are not of specific people from this weekend’s parties, just a compilation of my general party-going experiences). Throw your hands up in the air like you just don't care, and here we go...
The Star – this is the person who lives for Saturday night. This party gives him or her the chance to be the center of attention without seeming like a total a-hole. When people are drunk and in need of entertainment this person delivers, but in a way that makes you say to your friend “wow, the vodka makes him seem really talented!” You know that when the Star throws a party for his best friend, parents, or significant other, the real motivator was that he or she developed a new dance move, learned the words to the new Britney, or figured out how to incorporate juggling into the routine. This person is often secretly somewhat douche-y but hides it well – that is, until Saturday night rolls around.
The Compensator – this is the guy who has something to prove. He is the really short one among a group of tall guys, the unattractive one in a group of hot guys, or the chubby one in a group of fit guys. (Note: If you can’t see the differentiating factor, then you know what he’s compensating for.) As a result of his insecurity, this guy does “crazy” things at the party – he pees into the garbage can, takes off his shirt and rolls around in mud, or starts a snowball fight and brings it indoors where he causes destruction. Major traits of a compensator are that he is extraordinarily loud, makes raunchy/racist/sexist jokes that only totally hammered guys find funny, and often causes serious property damage. This is all in hopes that a girl will hook up with him. This rarely works.
The Muncher – this is the girl who parks herself by the snacks and remains there for the duration of the party, only to take quick breaks to dance and ensure that someone takes a picture of her dancing so no one remembers she spent 85% of the night with her hands in the Cheetos. The Muncher hits up the Chex mix first, picking out all the peanuts. The Muncher dips Cheez-Doodles in the Con Queso with reckless abandon (note: yes, I know con queso means “with cheese” but among my friends it is a proper noun describing a stomach blocking, neon yellow bowl of fun). This girl judges the goodness of the party by whether or not she leaves with her hands completely orange.
The Hoovers – this is the couple that comes to a party, seemingly for the sole purpose of sucking face all night (hence, the name Hoovers – how clever am I?). Why do you come to a party to do something you could do in your bedroom at home? No one knows, but what they do know is that the Hoovers stop by and what you see of them all night is a rolling tumbleweed of tongues and butt-grabbing. The Hoovers usually think they are a very “hot” couple and perhaps this is why they think people want to see them make out all night. We don’t. You’re gross. Go home.
The Uncle Herbert – this is the oddly old person who somehow always gets wind of parties and shows up. No one knows how he became part of the group, who knew him originally, or why he continues to show up now that everyone is well past the age of needing help buying beer. This guy gets belligerently drunk and tries to get everyone to have a fun nickname for him ala “Frank the Tank”, but sadly everyone just calls him “Weird Old Guy” or “Gene”.
The Girl Clan – we all know what this is, and I admit I’ve been guilty of being a part of it. This is the crew of girls who cannot be separated, as though their remaining intact is critical to the survival of mankind. Nothing can separate this dedicated group – from powerhour, to dancing, to late night vomiting, the only thing that can tear these girls apart is when the party ends. Or when a hot guy talks to one of them. Or when the new case of Keystone Lite comes around. Or when the Muncher has her Cheetos taken away, prompting a kitchen rampage.
The Groper – this is the guy who is blackout drunk within what seems like 10 minutes of his arrival and from there on out, feels up anything breathing. He gets inappropriately close to guys, whispering in their ears and leaving a drool train. He hugs everyone, even when someone is leaving to go to the bathroom. He goes up to a group of girls and somehow has touched every breast in the group by the time he moves on. This is the guy who tells you he knows where the “secret bathroom” is – and tries to accompany you. He’s a total creeper and should be avoided at all times. Unless, you know, you like that sort of thing.
The Facebook Cover Girl – this is a guy or girl whose sole goal at the party is to be in as many pictures, doing as many “fun” things as possible, so that the whole Facebook world knows how cool and popular and good looking he or she is. The female FCG often has a pose – the peace sign, the suck-in cheeks kissy face, the wide-eyed “I look so inadvertently hot” look, and she uses it with alarming frequency. The male FCG waits until the camera comes by and puts on the male FCG moves: chugging straight from a bottle of Smirnoff, pretending to punch a guy in the face, or making the “Look how many girls I have around me, I’m a pimp!” pose. The FCGs love the camera, love tags, and love attention. You’ll know a FCG when he or she has 1,000+ Facebook tags (girl) or 300+ tags (guy).
Please feel free to add more "types" that I may have overlooked. I was so overwhelmed this weekend that I might have missed out on some less obvious, yet equally amusing party characters.


Airport Amateurs


Disclaimer: This blog post may come off angry to some - as it should - but much more than normal.  I spent several years as a consultant and therefore, was exposed to lots of travel and correspondingly, lots of airports.  As such, I've probably had more bad airport experiences than average.

For those of you who know me, you know that I am pretty laid back and even tempered. There are several things that peeve me beyond control, one of which is Airport Amateurs. If you read this and say to yourself, “yeah, I’m an airport amateur,” please do mankind a favor and start taking Amtrak.

I seriously cannot believe how many people out there give off the impression that they have not stepped on an airplane since 9/11. Have people not gotten the memo about taking off your goddamn Rockport’s when you go through security? And if you didn’t get the memo, did you not see the 12 signs right in your face while you meandered through the security line? Or perhaps you were too deaf and dumb to hear the TSA agents yelling it every 30 seconds. Repeat the above for laptops, metal objects and liquids/gels.

But it doesn’t stop there. Once I get through security, give a hearty exhale and subsequent “Woo-saaaaaahhhh (From the movie, Bad Boys),” I’m confronted yet again by more bush-league bullshit. I CANNOT STAND people who line up to board, 20 minutes before boarding is even set to begin, even after the gate agent specifically says that they will be boarding in 20 minutes and by zones. I’ve literally witnessed people stammering to clog the gate area holding tickets that say “zone 8”. Really, you stupid fuck?! Are you that eager about getting into a shitty plane seat and breathe re-circulated air? Holy burning bush Moses.

I recently took a trip to Vegas that almost bankrupted me fiscally and physically – but that’s beside the point. I flew out of JFK and experienced such bumbling idiot travelers, I literally committed a mutiny. First of course, were the people waiting to get to the next available self check-in counter and standing around with their thumbs in their butt. PAY ATTENTION! Why do I have to point out the open check-in kiosk right in front of your fat ugly face!  

Then the ever dreaded security line. Not only did it seem that no one had their ticket and ID/passport out to show the TSA agent, but once I actually made it to the metal detector line, I was behind what could have been the most inept ensemble of a mentally retarded family. The mom tries to walk through with her shoes on, the dad walks through with change in his pocket like he robbed a parking meter, the son doesn’t take the laptop out of his bag, and the daughter tries to walk through
with metal bracelets around her arms like she was in a "who could wear more gold chains" competition with B.A. Baracus (Mr. T). 

Now I was trying to hold my composure and
just shake my head back and forth like I just witnessed a man intentionally grab another man's penis in a public restroom. But when I saw the girl with all the fake gold and silver on her arm look at the TSA agent like, “what’s the problem?” after he pointed to her arms and told her she cant get through with all the jewelry on, I lost it and yelled “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Yeah, that cost me a full security check molestation by TSA agents. Whatever.

The main event was at the gate. As you all should know, flights typically start boarding 30 minutes before scheduled departure. My flight was at 4:30 and it was about 3:40 at this point – 20 minutes before they even start boarding First Class, Diamond Elite, Elite, and 100K flyers. The gate agent gets on the mic to make an announcement about all that procedural crap…”we’ll be boarding shortly, look at your ticket for the zone number, oversized bags will be have to be gate checked, blah, blah blah.”

No sooner then the gate agent finishes her message, this douche-y looking 20-something gets on his cell phone to make a call. Once the person on the other end picks up, he starts screaming and cussing like a man would do if his wife just closed the garage door on the family minivan. He’s yelling about, “WTF are you doing?! ...Where are you?! ...Get back here, we are about to board! Why the fuck are you dicking around when we are about to leave?!” I thought he was yelling at his girlfriend or wife. I really wanted to go off on this guy, because he’s giving the other person such a hard time about getting back to the gate, when we’re not even going to start boarding for another 20 minutes. Learning my lesson from the security line, I just kept quiet. What I wanted to say was, “Are you a fucking idiot?! Why are you making the person get back to the gate so fast?! We’re 20 minutes from boarding, and you’re holding a ticket that says ZONE 6! You’re not even getting on the plane for another 40 minutes!”

A minute after the ass-clown gets off the phone, I see his Dad show up. He starts yelling at him again, the dad just lowering his head like one of Michael Vick's dogs and they get up to be the first ones to stand around and cause unnecessary congestion. If I were this kid’s father, I would chop his nuts off and feed it to him. If my kid ever talks to me like that, you best believe his face is getting rearranged...INDEED.

So after I say excuse me, so I can get past the father-son combo blocking the line, I finally get on the plane for a glorious 6 hour flight. Just writing this has worked me up enough that I am not even going to get into the part about people who try to stuff what is clearly a gigantic suitcase into the overhead bin. These are the same folks whom as kids tried to stick the square peg into the circle cut out. (exhale)…wooo-saaaaaaaaaaah.

Adventures in Bathroom Sitting


Public bathrooms have always held some level of horror for me. I think my fear began when I got my first period in the bathroom at Stew Leonard’s: my mother proceeded to shriek with glee and share the news with all the other women in the bathroom (one of whom actually high-fived me as I left the stall crying). There has been an advent of new tools designed to make public bathrooms more palatable to people. I consider the efficacy of various additions:
1) The Electric Hand Dryer – Why can they not regulate the power level of these things? When I was in the bathroom at Ace Bar (where I may or may not have been coercing one of my best friends to drink from a flask) I went to dry my hands and was met with a force usually saved for Khloe Kardashian bum rushing an overturned hot-dog stand. The sheer force they have harnessed in that machine seems sufficient to propel a MiniCooper. Is this necessary? Are people trying to blow the skin completely off their hands? While I like the automatic dryer, I don’t need to give my hands the “skydiving experience” when I’m just trying to get back to my beer.
2) Cloth Towel Rolls – these are the things that “dispense” a cloth towel and then let it loop back up into the box. Please lord, explain to me how these got past the Department of Sanitation. I know that box isn’t big enough to hold a fully functioning Asian dry cleaner inside, so unless they make that box transparent and show me exactly what kind of miracle process going on in there, I am not gonna trust that the towel is going to magically come out cleansed of people-germs. Thanks Georgia-Pacific, but some of us are on to your bullshit.
3) The Motion-Sensor sink – I feel like a total idiot using this thing. Only half of the time can I figure out where the evil genius sink creators have hidden the elusive sensor, and when I can, I stand there waving my hands around like a mentally disabled magician.
4) The Push-Button sink – What purpose does this thing serve? If the goal is making the bathroom more sanitary, shouldn’t the water run for long enough to actually wash your hands? When you need another person to assist in the hand-washing process, it seems like there was some kind of design failure.
5) The Bathroom Assistant – While I appreciate job-creation in all its forms, I can’t imagine why this is necessary. The only place people should need bathroom assistance is in a nursing home. What would be real assistance is having someone come in the stall with me, hold my drink, wipe my butt, and pull up my skinny jeans. If they’re not going to do this, then I don’t think I need them to unwrap my $1 piece of Trident or spray me with Calgon “Air Fantasies”. These guys should probably be replaced by security guards since their real function at most places is to ensure that two people aren’t going into a stall together (homophobia or drug-enforcement? Your call.).
6) The Green soap – what is this liquidy, toxic colored substance and why has Johnson & Johnson never sold anything like this? How am I supposed to trust a hand-cleansing product that looks like the stuff that turned a rat into Splinter on TMNT? (if you don’t know what this is, I’m not even gonna go there)
Am I missing anything? Feel free, readers, to share other ridiculous/disgusting/inefficient public bathroom tools. For now, I’m going to continue to squat, open doors with paper towels, and hand sanitize.