Monday, December 05, 2005

Wake me up, before you go Hate

...You are pissed off because I waited a mere 4 days between posts. Um, yeah, you’ve apparently been spoiled with the daily posts. For that, I’m going to try to find a way for you to have only limited access to the hate. Sometimes I get haters block, sometimes the rage just consumes too much of my daily life, so until my next hate, you can know that I only have hate for you.

...You are AOL Time Warner. You didn’t process our last payment properly and felt the need to shut off our cable at 11:17 AM on Saturday. Yes that makes perfect sense, how do you arrive at this time? How is it possible to not be able to speak to a live person on your touchtone phone service? Why was I hung up on three times? You have quite the racket going, make your customers give up they’re entire day to wait in line at your store to have the guy say, prove that you paid, when it’s done electronically. Well I need proof from you, proof that I don’t hate you.

...You feel you and your time is so much more important than 400 other people waiting in line. Asshole, we all have numbers, it's all first come, first serve, there’s nothing you can do about it. Shouting at the entire store is not going to get you anywhere except hated by me.

...You are on a train talking on your phone and talking at a volume where the entire car can hear you. Not only are you loud, but the topics you are discussing are simply amazing and should not be discussed over the phone at all, let alone over the phone in public. Having an abortion is private matter as are STDs. Keep it down for your own sake before I hate you some more.

...You are obstructing my view of a cute girl while I’m on the subway. Um excuse me, do you see that CG standing behind you? well before you got in the way, I was staring at her to the point where she was starting to feel uncomfortable. If I have to be cramped on the L, smooshed up against the door with one arm the air and one leg lifted, then I better be able to gapingly stare at the cute girl or the too cool for school hipster chick or anyone else that might be hating you.

...You are on the subway and refuse to hang on to the handles and then wonder why you are falling all over the place when the train moves. You see the bars are there for a reason, for you to hold. I don’t want your fat ass falling into me when the train starts moving and neither does anyone else. I don’t want to hear that there are germs, try washing your hands before you lick your fingers to get the very last bit of artificial nachoy dorito flavoring and before I hate you.

...You were on the uptown 9 train Friday December 2 around 8 PM. This was the single most bizarre subway ride of my life and will always remain so, aside from a murder or view of public copulation. I enter this magical mystery ride at 14th street, the doors close and the fun begins. The first thing I notice is a man standing opposite me in a bright red and white suit. Now the suit is actually white with bright red writing of some kind, I’m guessing it said Sean Jean, and on the seat was his bright red leather jacket. He finds that it's appropriate to see how close he spit next to me without actually spitting on me. It’s a fun game for all involved. But we’re not even done with this one patron. My favorite part of his existence was his listening to music with an old school discman. He is doing some kind of dance that resembles the humpty dance, arms flailing all over the place, legs in the air, border line falling over. It gets better still. While all this dancing and spitting is taking place he is yelling, and yelling loudly. Of all the words that came out of his mouth, the N word was every other one. I think you all know what this word is, I’m not allowed to write or say it, but he can, I guess. His final glorious attribute was every 10 seconds or so between his N bombs and dancing, he’d stop and stare at me with his crackhead smile, like he either wanted to eat me or violently sodomize me, either way he could obviously smell the anxiety. Although he was the highlight of my subway ride, there were others. Example, the pan handler wearing an all leather suit whose line to would be suckers was “only in NY can a man wear a leather suit and beg for cash”. Another treat was the drunken Irishman, I mean seriously would you expect anything else, who’s American Idol aspirations manifested themselves at the 23rd street station, but I believe he was auditioning for the dirty version because the only words I understood were Fuck and Pussy, repeatedly and he wasn't so muh singing as he was screaming and the tone was more a Limmerick. So to all those undertook such a wonderful tour of NY’s finest I say, I hate you.

4 comments:

elvira black said...

Didn't they outlaw this free entertainment portion of the ride? As of now, no food or drink, no feet or bags on the seat next to you in the subways. So what's up with the hateful floor show?

Doofi said...

That's the beauty of it, these rides are like forbidden fruit. I think they also outlawed smiling, holding the doors open, reading newspapers (books are ok, magazines subject to approval), chewing gum, standing when there is a seat open, itunes headphones - any others are still ok. Yet for some reason, public masturbation and extretion are still allowed and in fact encouraged. I don't get it.

jessie said...

i'd remember a ride like that too! wow! was it a full moon or something?

Doofi said...

well at least a few other sane patrons on the train acknowledged the craziness and then shared the relief when Sean Jean left the train to freak out some other peeps.