Friday, October 13, 2006

what the...?

During my commute today, I had nothing to read and my MP3 player died, so I was powerless to shelter myself from the usual urban weirdness. I really do try to keep my faith in humanity alive by mixing with good souls throughout most of the day, but sometimes the things I see out there make me fucking crazy. Here's today's Top 3:

Eskimo Hooker chic
Four lithe and vapid teenage girls are hanging out at the subway station, wearing tiny skirts that barely contained their assets, big fur vests, and gigantic furry mukkluk boots to the knee. It was 12 degrees celsius yesterday (53 F for my American friends)- not freezing, but pants are recommended. They were huddled together (for either warmth or aesthetic purposes) like a pack of sled dogs. Three of the four girls were loudly yakking away on cellphones. The fourth was heaping on another layer of make-up. I curse myself for leaving my camera at home today. I'm certain they would have posed for me.

GT-style racing stripes on a Dodge Neon
Possibly the most ridiculous paint job I've ever seen on a domestic shitbox. I know some of you racing fans might defend this car on a track, but this one was a '96 rust-trap with a home-built body kit, and featured a decal of Calvin & Hobbes on the rear window. Are you fucking KIDDING ME? It looked like the guy stole his mom's car and ran up his credit card in the automotive accessories department at Home Depot. The guy driving was very K-Fed-esque, which was poetry in motion.

Lady asking for directions is "non-believer"
A woman on the bus approaches the driver to ask him for the quickest transit route downtown, because she's late for an important appointment. The driver explains he doesn't actually know this part of town very well, only the specific route he drives. She is angry and frustrated. She begins to vent on him and it gets personal. I am sitting in the seat behind the driver. I try to diffuse the situation by offering the woman the most efficient directions to her destination. She stares at me with her crazy eyes and narrows them into slits. In a cracked witchy voice, she spits her venom: "I don't believe you!" This is REALLY surprising to me. Shocking, in fact. I stare her down, looking for clues to mental illness, or some reasonable explanation for her unbelievable rudeness. I'm so insulted, I decide that I no longer need to sympathize or be polite.

I say: "Suit yourself, bitch."

Wednesday, October 11, 2006