Three little things

I sat next to “Rain Woman” on the train home tonight. She had some sort of tic that wouldn’t allow her to sit still for more than 30 seconds. Super freaky and definitely not the kind of girl you’d take home to Mamma.
She started doing this Edward Scissorhands thingy with her hands and arms and I’m thinking she’s going to start barking any minute now.
The contents of her pocketbook looked like a bird’s nest with strange stuff sticking out from everywhere. I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice this before I sat down.
I said, excuse me, and moved to another seat.
After five minutes or so, I glanced back and saw her with her head back and a pair of sunglasses on. Cool.

In the immortal words of Forest Gump— the people you sit next to on the train are like a box of chocolates and you never know what you’re going to get.
I got a caramel-nutty tonight.

 

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Sometimes the train home can be a very entertaining adventure—like last Tuesday night.

I sat down in the upper level of a double car and began to read when I noticed three guys sitting several seats away. After sitting for a few minutes, a few whaffs of stale beer made it to my olfactory senses. I looked up. Wow. These guys were really schnockered and to make the situation even more appalling, one guy was “dipping” (using smokeless tobacco, i.e., Copenhagen, Skoal).

He was spitting his ‘baccy juice into a Pizzeria Regina cup. This was the guy that made my ride home. He was floating a good 50 points below a basic vegetative state at this point anyway which made the “dipping” ritual that much more comedic to watch. This guy’s pasty complexion reminded me of Lurch from the Adam’s Family. When this monosyllabic baboon finally got up to get off the train his brain said, “Whoa, slow down there big fella!” He logged some serious flight time and did a face plant right in front of me as his half full Pizzeria Regina “dip” cup runneth over all over the floor. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Spooge central.

His almost coherent friend tried to help him up saying, “Come on, man! Get up! We have to get off the train!”

The baboon managed to get up, stumbling towards the stairwell that led to the train platform. All I heard was WHOOSH! BA-BOOM! He missed all seven steps and landed once again flat on his face. His cell phone came out of nowhere and smashed into a gazillion pieces. There was a girl sitting quietly at the bottom of the steps reading who freaked out and probably soiled her pants. She quickly got up and moved.

The baboon’s friend looked down at the floor, dumbfounded and mumbling.

I got up to look for a conductor figuring this kid needed some serious help. I made it to the end of the car and found no conductor in sight when the train began to move. I returned to my original seat and found no sign of the “dip man”, just a trampled plastic cup and a slick, disgusting mess that some hapless MBTA soul would have to clean up.

The guy must have made it off the train undoubtedly in search of a new cup to start filling.

 

 

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I was surfing on Blogexplosion this morning and came across a crocheting blog. Crocheting? Hmm. I like to think that I offer visitors enough variety that they find at least something interesting here.
But when I saw this crochet blog, I thought, you gotta be kidding me.
What’s next the bowling blog?
How about a blog that contemplates a dripping icicle?
I think you get the point. Obviously, a newly knitted shawl is not in my future.
Good for the people that find that sort of thing interesting but…

 

For all the good that BE does they really should run some of these blogs through a spell checker. I saw so many “stoopid” blogs today. Anytime I see “your” when the blogger means the contraction “you’re”, I simply lose patience (and respect) and click the saving X in the upper right corner of my browser. I’m not saying mistakes are a defining factor in my like or dislike of a particular blog but for the love of Mary. It’s the “im so dum an I kant spel” blunders that quite simply frost my already irritated stones. If you can’t even try to grammatically respect your own blog, why the hell should I? Just my opinion.

~m

 

 

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