There are times when we are all surrounded by annoying people. Commuting to and from work everyday with strangers increases the likelihood of encountering those people with great regularity. If you've gotten to know me at all, you will know that I am probably a little more easily annoyed than most. I just have a low idiot threshold, and I generally like to be left alone in the morning while my brain tries to wake up and prepare itself for the day. (This takes longer as I get older)
Where am I going with this? Right...
A New Guy showed up at the sluglot this morning, and I will be perfectly content to never see or hear from him ever again....ever (never ever).
Mr. NG is a somewhat attractive (wouldn't have noticed if he didn't bring attention to himself), well-dressed, mid-thirties-ish, and annoying as ALL HELL! No exaggerations necessary.
What can be so bad about this poor guy you ask? He is what Saturday Night Live sketches are made of! In fact, the folks at SNL probably know this guy and use him as a muse FREQUENTLY!
This man comments on everything to everyone, and he doesn't care who is or is not listening.
I was standing in line for a good 5 minutes when he sauntered up to the line. He was about 8 to 10 people behind me in line, but distance did not make the heart grow fonder. He was able to broadcast his annoyance all the way to my spot in line and beyond. I didn't notice at first because I thought he was talking to a friend. I tuned him out, as I do most people at 6AM. But his voice just kept pinging on my fragile sound barrier, and I eventually stopped trying to tune him out to see what was going on with this guy. Nobody has a need to talk that much that early in the morning.
First, I listened.
"Wow, that's the second car going to the Pentagon."
"Gee, nice Escalade."
"Could that guy pull up?"
"Wow, his car is clean."
"It's getting cold outside."
"Yesterday was nice!"
"I think the line is moving."
OK, besides being the King of Obvious-land, he was just saying this stuff out loud to nobody in particular. That notches him up on the annoying ladder by at least 10 spots (basically putting him at the top). All of these little comments happened within the space of about 5 minutes (or less).
Dying of curiosity, I had to turn my head down in his direction to see what was going on. I fully expected him to be a paste-eating IT nerd (no offense to all you IT nerds out there--yes there are IT people who AREN'T nerds, but I'm not talking to you!). He turned out to be normal looking. So I started watching the people around him. I started to notice that people were increasingly focusing their attention in directions opposite from him. It was almost like he had just announced he has mouth cooties and everyone was trying to avoid getting them.
King Obvious did not seem deterred as he continued to comment on everything.
"The bus has already made 2 complete routes."
"I'm going to get to work on time if the next ride is mine."
"The writers might be going back to work soon."
"My bag is heavy."
"I forgot my scarf."
Why are you talking to yourself sir? Do your friends find you as annoying as the strangers around you, so you end up talking to yourself a lot? Are you just oblivious to the fact that this stuff leaks out of your brain, down into your mouth, and out into public air? Have you convinced yourself that your input is so valuable that everyone must receive it?
I just don't understand how life and circumstances haven't broken you of such a nasty habit. Can you imagine being on a date with this guy?
"Wow, a salt shaker."
"Look, the waiter is coming this way."
"My pants are too tight."
"Your hair is long."
"The sky is blue."
Oh come on! I can't handle this level of annoyance this early in the morning!!!! Stop making the running commentary! If you want to be a sportscaster, go audition at NBC, in another state so I don't accidentally end up watching you. In the meantime stop talking!
Perhaps you would be good at something else that would make you move far, far, far away from DC and would prevent you from commuting with other strangers.
But I'm not that lucky am I?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Really?
OK, without giving too much away, I'm short. Not midget-like mind you! But I'm horizontally challenged in such a way that I don't require a lot of leg room in a vehicle. I do, however, require SOME leg room. Not much, just a little.
The rides were few and far between this morning, and I was about to give up on my destination and try for somewhere else. Just as I was thinking this, a driver called out for my beloved destination. I was excited because this was going to save me some unpleasant commuting options on an already cold and crappy Friday. But here's the kicker....I could BARELY get in the backseat at all!
The driver had his wife, girlfriend, mistress, whatever with him, and she decided that she was going to have a nice leisurely horizontal nap on the way to work. Since the other side of the backseat was completely blocked by a mountain of garbage, yes there were some food wrappers, cups, and various other unpleasantries, I had no choice but to sit behind this rude monster.
Let me see if I can use my rusty literary skills to paint a verbal picture of how this went down.
There I was, my short little stumps squeezing in behind this full reclined seat. Her seat was SO close that I had to literally put a leg on EITHER side of the seat. I couldn't curl up my legs any closer. I had to literally give birth to her damn seat the entire way to work. To make it worse, the seat was leather, and you know how much I hate leather seats.
On top of that, her hair stunk like she's never washed it, and it was right in my face the ENTIRE time. I was wearing a scarf around my neck, and I decided that it would make a good mask. So I covered up my nose and mouth to avoid sucking in her hair mites while I did what I could to control the contractions.
Because I wasn't squeezed in tight ENOUGH behind her apparently, she kept pushing BACK against me in the seat. For a minute, I considered lighting her hair on fire, but I figured I was too trapped to escape from the inferno that would surely be caused by the greasepit she's collecting on her head. Although, the smell of burning flesh and hair would have been an improvement. I still don't know if she was pushing back because she could feel my legs groping for space or because she really was just that rude. Either way, the only thing that got me through the ride was letting myself imagine 10 different ways to crawl over her body in case of an accident.
All I can say is if I had been stuck in THAT car behind THAT beast on Tuesday, this would have ended differently.
Since I wasn't and it didn't, I did my best to behave and exit like a lady.
When they pulled up to my spot, I opened the door and with GREAT fanfare and many grunts and groans "attempted" to remove myself from the stirrups of her seat. Being a little overly dramatic, I decided to turn myself horizontal in the seat and exit feet first laying on my back. (I did my best to not dip my head in their precious trash collection). The driver said "oh do you need some help?" Gasping for breath and holding my right knee, I simply said "no, no, I needed the exercise."
I should have spit in her hair.
The rides were few and far between this morning, and I was about to give up on my destination and try for somewhere else. Just as I was thinking this, a driver called out for my beloved destination. I was excited because this was going to save me some unpleasant commuting options on an already cold and crappy Friday. But here's the kicker....I could BARELY get in the backseat at all!
The driver had his wife, girlfriend, mistress, whatever with him, and she decided that she was going to have a nice leisurely horizontal nap on the way to work. Since the other side of the backseat was completely blocked by a mountain of garbage, yes there were some food wrappers, cups, and various other unpleasantries, I had no choice but to sit behind this rude monster.
Let me see if I can use my rusty literary skills to paint a verbal picture of how this went down.
There I was, my short little stumps squeezing in behind this full reclined seat. Her seat was SO close that I had to literally put a leg on EITHER side of the seat. I couldn't curl up my legs any closer. I had to literally give birth to her damn seat the entire way to work. To make it worse, the seat was leather, and you know how much I hate leather seats.
On top of that, her hair stunk like she's never washed it, and it was right in my face the ENTIRE time. I was wearing a scarf around my neck, and I decided that it would make a good mask. So I covered up my nose and mouth to avoid sucking in her hair mites while I did what I could to control the contractions.
Because I wasn't squeezed in tight ENOUGH behind her apparently, she kept pushing BACK against me in the seat. For a minute, I considered lighting her hair on fire, but I figured I was too trapped to escape from the inferno that would surely be caused by the greasepit she's collecting on her head. Although, the smell of burning flesh and hair would have been an improvement. I still don't know if she was pushing back because she could feel my legs groping for space or because she really was just that rude. Either way, the only thing that got me through the ride was letting myself imagine 10 different ways to crawl over her body in case of an accident.
All I can say is if I had been stuck in THAT car behind THAT beast on Tuesday, this would have ended differently.
Since I wasn't and it didn't, I did my best to behave and exit like a lady.
When they pulled up to my spot, I opened the door and with GREAT fanfare and many grunts and groans "attempted" to remove myself from the stirrups of her seat. Being a little overly dramatic, I decided to turn myself horizontal in the seat and exit feet first laying on my back. (I did my best to not dip my head in their precious trash collection). The driver said "oh do you need some help?" Gasping for breath and holding my right knee, I simply said "no, no, I needed the exercise."
I should have spit in her hair.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Everything I Need to Know, I Learned in 7 Hours of Traffic
For those of you blessed enough to live outside of the Beltway, you officially NEVER have the right to complain about your traffic conditions EVER again. No exceptions. No appeals will be heard on this topic. DC Metro area traffic is, hands down, the worst ever in the world. I don't care what anyone says.
Sitting completely still on I-95 for nearly 7 hours (technically 6.5) gives you lots of time to reflect and explore yourself and those around you. Before I give you my little list of observations I have come up with as a result of Hell Tuesday, let me give those of you unaware of the situation some background.
On Tuesday, the day of the Potomac Primary (Chesapeake Primary depending on what channel you are watching), at approximately 3:00 pm it started to sleet in Washington DC and the outlying areas. Considering we live in an area that gets traffic reports that announce "sunshine delays," it is NO real surprise that traffic was going to be heavy. People are already stupid when they get behind the wheel of a car, and adding bad weather multiplies that ridiculously. So at 3:30 pm, I rushed out of my office to meet my ride outside (bypassing the bathroom and snack machine), and we were on the interstate by 3:40 pm. Traffic moved slowly for about 4 miles, and then it started to REALLY slow down. It wasn't until people around us started to put their cars in park and turn off the engines that we realized we were going to be sitting for a little while.
We sat unsuspectingly, oblivious to the traffic realities around us. The traffic reports that repeat every 10 minutes on the "8s",and were completely and totally useless. People started to get out of their cars and walk around in the sleet after about an hour. It became clear to me and my fellow sluggers at the 2 hour mark that we were screwed. We all suspected that there was an idiot convention ahead of us that was causing all the emergency vehicles to go racing by us.
Apparently, the braintrust at VDOT decided to SHUT DOWN I-95 South and block the entire southbound commute out of Washington DC because it was getting icy. Yes, SHUT DOWN.
So, I sat trapped in the car for almost 7 hours trying to get home to vote in the presidential primary. In case you didn't figure it out, I didn't make it. Nobody made it. So for those of you OUTSIDE of the Potomac Primary region, don't believe the election results. The employed, thoughtful voters who wanted to vote for their candidate were prevented from doing so by a well-crafted, well-timed conspiracy between God and VDOT.
Without making you wait any longer, here are some slugging survival tips that I have devised as a result of my hell ride.
10. Always eat a snack just before leaving work. If you aren't hungry, at least make sure you have mints or gum in your purse or pocket. Slightly chewy lint starts to look good after about 4 hours.
9. Charge your cell phones and Blackberries while you are at work. It is guaranteed that on the day you have to sit in traffic and make a million phone calls your cell phone will start to die.
8. Bring a change of clothes. Again, guaranteed that you will be stuck in hell wearing control top pantyhose.
7. Grab a bottle of water to go. Even if you aren't thirsty, it might come in handy for number 6.
6. Always, always make a trip to the bathroom before leaving work. Even if you "just went," give it a try. Every trickle counts when you are sitting in traffic for 7 hours. In case you were in a hurry to meet your ride, consider a water bottle. :)
5. Don't accept a ride from someone unless you know you can sit trapped in a car with them for more than the typical hour-hour and a half.
4. Make sure you have at least one friend in the world who will IM with you for several hours checking the primary results and sending you jokes to break up the monotony.
3. Always work on less sleep than you need. It will be the ONE day that you actually got enough sleep to sustain you that you will get stuck in a car for that long. On most days, I am begging for the chance to sleep. I could have had an entire night's sleep on Tuesday before I ever got home.
2. Bring something with you that could double as a pillow.
1. Learn some buttcheek exercises. Sitting on your butt for that long without moving will lead to numb-butt syndrome which could lead to a very unpleasant olfactory experience for those around you.
In all seriousness, the number 1 thing I learned that is THE most important is that you absolutely MUST have someone who does not live or work in DC that would be willing to pick up your child from school when you can't. If it weren't for my very good friend, God only knows what would have happened to my child that night! I wasn't reunited with my child until 10:30 pm!
Sitting completely still on I-95 for nearly 7 hours (technically 6.5) gives you lots of time to reflect and explore yourself and those around you. Before I give you my little list of observations I have come up with as a result of Hell Tuesday, let me give those of you unaware of the situation some background.
On Tuesday, the day of the Potomac Primary (Chesapeake Primary depending on what channel you are watching), at approximately 3:00 pm it started to sleet in Washington DC and the outlying areas. Considering we live in an area that gets traffic reports that announce "sunshine delays," it is NO real surprise that traffic was going to be heavy. People are already stupid when they get behind the wheel of a car, and adding bad weather multiplies that ridiculously. So at 3:30 pm, I rushed out of my office to meet my ride outside (bypassing the bathroom and snack machine), and we were on the interstate by 3:40 pm. Traffic moved slowly for about 4 miles, and then it started to REALLY slow down. It wasn't until people around us started to put their cars in park and turn off the engines that we realized we were going to be sitting for a little while.
We sat unsuspectingly, oblivious to the traffic realities around us. The traffic reports that repeat every 10 minutes on the "8s",and were completely and totally useless. People started to get out of their cars and walk around in the sleet after about an hour. It became clear to me and my fellow sluggers at the 2 hour mark that we were screwed. We all suspected that there was an idiot convention ahead of us that was causing all the emergency vehicles to go racing by us.
Apparently, the braintrust at VDOT decided to SHUT DOWN I-95 South and block the entire southbound commute out of Washington DC because it was getting icy. Yes, SHUT DOWN.
So, I sat trapped in the car for almost 7 hours trying to get home to vote in the presidential primary. In case you didn't figure it out, I didn't make it. Nobody made it. So for those of you OUTSIDE of the Potomac Primary region, don't believe the election results. The employed, thoughtful voters who wanted to vote for their candidate were prevented from doing so by a well-crafted, well-timed conspiracy between God and VDOT.
Without making you wait any longer, here are some slugging survival tips that I have devised as a result of my hell ride.
10. Always eat a snack just before leaving work. If you aren't hungry, at least make sure you have mints or gum in your purse or pocket. Slightly chewy lint starts to look good after about 4 hours.
9. Charge your cell phones and Blackberries while you are at work. It is guaranteed that on the day you have to sit in traffic and make a million phone calls your cell phone will start to die.
8. Bring a change of clothes. Again, guaranteed that you will be stuck in hell wearing control top pantyhose.
7. Grab a bottle of water to go. Even if you aren't thirsty, it might come in handy for number 6.
6. Always, always make a trip to the bathroom before leaving work. Even if you "just went," give it a try. Every trickle counts when you are sitting in traffic for 7 hours. In case you were in a hurry to meet your ride, consider a water bottle. :)
5. Don't accept a ride from someone unless you know you can sit trapped in a car with them for more than the typical hour-hour and a half.
4. Make sure you have at least one friend in the world who will IM with you for several hours checking the primary results and sending you jokes to break up the monotony.
3. Always work on less sleep than you need. It will be the ONE day that you actually got enough sleep to sustain you that you will get stuck in a car for that long. On most days, I am begging for the chance to sleep. I could have had an entire night's sleep on Tuesday before I ever got home.
2. Bring something with you that could double as a pillow.
1. Learn some buttcheek exercises. Sitting on your butt for that long without moving will lead to numb-butt syndrome which could lead to a very unpleasant olfactory experience for those around you.
In all seriousness, the number 1 thing I learned that is THE most important is that you absolutely MUST have someone who does not live or work in DC that would be willing to pick up your child from school when you can't. If it weren't for my very good friend, God only knows what would have happened to my child that night! I wasn't reunited with my child until 10:30 pm!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The Perfect Storm
It was bound to happen, especially with my luck these days. One person who embodies nearly every irritating characteristic known to man offers me a ride home. It was inevitable and unpleasant.
I started the day thinking I would be writing a long complaint about the car engine parts I shared a seat with in the morning. I was ready to vent about the smell of grease and oil and redneck all over my clothes this morning. And then it happened...
Mr. Tsunami picked me up to take me home, and it didn't start off well. First, he was late. And I don't mean a few minutes. He was 20 minutes late with no phone call. As if my freaking day wasn't long enough, I wanted to add 20 minutes to it standing in the rain with Jeffrey Dahmer in the middle of DC. (Yeah, I'm pretty sure the guy stalking me was related to Dahmer....long story...but scary)
I guess this guy thinks that because he has a "luxury" vehicle he gets a pass on manners and good slugging etiquette. I disagree.
He picked me up late, and he suggested that I get in the front seat. I HATE the front seat. I especially hate the front seat when the third and final passenger is this guy's best friend to whom he talked the whole way home. If you know you are picking up your best dude, do you throw him in the back seat? NO!
Speaking of seats, they were leather and COLD. Apparently Hurricane Harry doesn't believe in heat, so I sat there FREEZING...literally shivering...the entire way home.
I was tired and wanted desperately to sleep as I had several hours of home overtime to complete yet. These two bozos decided to talk about absolutely NOTHING relevant to anyone. I had the pod on and their incessant yapping was still coming through. To make it worse, Teddy Tornado has the WORST BREATH EVER. Imagine the worst garbage smell if you've ever experienced (think rotting diapers in a garbage heat in late summer in Miami). Now imagine that smell bouncing off the windows everytime this guy opened his mouth to talk. Yep, there was no escape. I tried to tuck my head into the little corner of the window where the seatbelt is, but the aerodynamics of luxury vehicles basically makes it impossible to hide from the ricocheting air draft from his hell-hole of a mouth.
It doesn't matter anyway. I could NEVER sleep wondering if those high-dollar airbags were going to come flying out at my face any second. Earthquake Erwin was doing the "I'm going to drive really fast and test out my brakes at the last second" option, and I was trying really hard not to cry. I'm pretty sure I ate my tongue when he almost sent us flying UNDER an 18-wheeler.
The funny thing is he was bragging to his friend, with whom he appears to spend a lot of time and drives with frequently, about his 2002 BMW. Wow. Seriously? You've had this thing 100 years and you are still bragging about it? Come on. It's time to upgrade to a new outdated replacement for your penis that stopped working 20 years ago.
To top off this beautiful ride, Sal the Cyclone took me to an entirely different location which would have required a phone call on my behalf to get back to my car. He neglected to inform me of this, and I made that known. Cooler heads prevailed and he agreed to get me to my car (one piece was still optional to him).
As we approached the lot, I said "so this is a 2002 huh?" in my best Marilyn Monroe, I'm terribly interested in you kind of voice. He smiled proudly and let out a mouth-cloud so toxic that could not only reverse Global Warming but send us into another ice age. I said "yeah, I had a 2003, but I got rid of it because I wanted something newer. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice night!"
Next time, I won't go looking for the fish when a storm is coming.
I started the day thinking I would be writing a long complaint about the car engine parts I shared a seat with in the morning. I was ready to vent about the smell of grease and oil and redneck all over my clothes this morning. And then it happened...
Mr. Tsunami picked me up to take me home, and it didn't start off well. First, he was late. And I don't mean a few minutes. He was 20 minutes late with no phone call. As if my freaking day wasn't long enough, I wanted to add 20 minutes to it standing in the rain with Jeffrey Dahmer in the middle of DC. (Yeah, I'm pretty sure the guy stalking me was related to Dahmer....long story...but scary)
I guess this guy thinks that because he has a "luxury" vehicle he gets a pass on manners and good slugging etiquette. I disagree.
He picked me up late, and he suggested that I get in the front seat. I HATE the front seat. I especially hate the front seat when the third and final passenger is this guy's best friend to whom he talked the whole way home. If you know you are picking up your best dude, do you throw him in the back seat? NO!
Speaking of seats, they were leather and COLD. Apparently Hurricane Harry doesn't believe in heat, so I sat there FREEZING...literally shivering...the entire way home.
I was tired and wanted desperately to sleep as I had several hours of home overtime to complete yet. These two bozos decided to talk about absolutely NOTHING relevant to anyone. I had the pod on and their incessant yapping was still coming through. To make it worse, Teddy Tornado has the WORST BREATH EVER. Imagine the worst garbage smell if you've ever experienced (think rotting diapers in a garbage heat in late summer in Miami). Now imagine that smell bouncing off the windows everytime this guy opened his mouth to talk. Yep, there was no escape. I tried to tuck my head into the little corner of the window where the seatbelt is, but the aerodynamics of luxury vehicles basically makes it impossible to hide from the ricocheting air draft from his hell-hole of a mouth.
It doesn't matter anyway. I could NEVER sleep wondering if those high-dollar airbags were going to come flying out at my face any second. Earthquake Erwin was doing the "I'm going to drive really fast and test out my brakes at the last second" option, and I was trying really hard not to cry. I'm pretty sure I ate my tongue when he almost sent us flying UNDER an 18-wheeler.
The funny thing is he was bragging to his friend, with whom he appears to spend a lot of time and drives with frequently, about his 2002 BMW. Wow. Seriously? You've had this thing 100 years and you are still bragging about it? Come on. It's time to upgrade to a new outdated replacement for your penis that stopped working 20 years ago.
To top off this beautiful ride, Sal the Cyclone took me to an entirely different location which would have required a phone call on my behalf to get back to my car. He neglected to inform me of this, and I made that known. Cooler heads prevailed and he agreed to get me to my car (one piece was still optional to him).
As we approached the lot, I said "so this is a 2002 huh?" in my best Marilyn Monroe, I'm terribly interested in you kind of voice. He smiled proudly and let out a mouth-cloud so toxic that could not only reverse Global Warming but send us into another ice age. I said "yeah, I had a 2003, but I got rid of it because I wanted something newer. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice night!"
Next time, I won't go looking for the fish when a storm is coming.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
An Open Letter
Dear Holy Lords of Slugging:
I write to you with great humility and desperation. I humbly beg for your understanding and assistance.
I do not know what I have done to anger you or to deserve your vicious wrath, but I will do whatever I need to do to make amends.
I feel as if you are working against me, constantly. Everyone I talk to loves their experiences overall, yet I keep getting stuck in these awful situations.
First, you send me to a lot that does not have adequate parking. In the reverse, when there is adequate parking, there aren't adequate rides.
Then you stick me in the car with all kinds of crazy, sexually depraved, bad-tempered, talkative, and generally bizarre people.
Today, with the winds gusting at 30 miles per hour, you stick me in a parking lot FULL of drivers going to destinations other than my own. So much for styling my hair, thank you very much! After you finally decide to cut me some slack, you send in a hippie with a hybrid who doesn't believe in heat (I guess she's counting on global warming to warm us up inside her car?). Then, you pile on to that with the MOST talkative lady to ever ride in the DC HOV lanes and an unexpectedly severe backup.
So, here I sit, dancing dangerously close to hypothermia (but saving the planet apparently) listening to a 90 mile an hour conversation between this woman and herself but only doing about 4 miles an hour on the road. As I try to block out the endless chattering of her mouth and my teeth, I realized that I must have done something to anger you to make you treat me so brutally.
Have I shown too much hubris by trying to arrive at the lot on a consistent schedule? Have I given too many "sympathy" rides, therefore messing up your ability to torture the innocent slugger soul? Have I simply failed to pay the proper dues? Must I sacrifice something at your sacred alter of slugging? Please tell me what I must do, and I will do it!
I am at your service, oh great Lords of Slugging.
Tomorrow, 5 minutes earlier than usual, you will find a gas receipt laying at the bus shelter alter with my solemn promise to behave written in oil and tears. Just please, please give me a nice, quiet ride to work for at least a few days in a row!!!
Please?
Your humble slugging servant,
ME
I write to you with great humility and desperation. I humbly beg for your understanding and assistance.
I do not know what I have done to anger you or to deserve your vicious wrath, but I will do whatever I need to do to make amends.
I feel as if you are working against me, constantly. Everyone I talk to loves their experiences overall, yet I keep getting stuck in these awful situations.
First, you send me to a lot that does not have adequate parking. In the reverse, when there is adequate parking, there aren't adequate rides.
Then you stick me in the car with all kinds of crazy, sexually depraved, bad-tempered, talkative, and generally bizarre people.
Today, with the winds gusting at 30 miles per hour, you stick me in a parking lot FULL of drivers going to destinations other than my own. So much for styling my hair, thank you very much! After you finally decide to cut me some slack, you send in a hippie with a hybrid who doesn't believe in heat (I guess she's counting on global warming to warm us up inside her car?). Then, you pile on to that with the MOST talkative lady to ever ride in the DC HOV lanes and an unexpectedly severe backup.
So, here I sit, dancing dangerously close to hypothermia (but saving the planet apparently) listening to a 90 mile an hour conversation between this woman and herself but only doing about 4 miles an hour on the road. As I try to block out the endless chattering of her mouth and my teeth, I realized that I must have done something to anger you to make you treat me so brutally.
Have I shown too much hubris by trying to arrive at the lot on a consistent schedule? Have I given too many "sympathy" rides, therefore messing up your ability to torture the innocent slugger soul? Have I simply failed to pay the proper dues? Must I sacrifice something at your sacred alter of slugging? Please tell me what I must do, and I will do it!
I am at your service, oh great Lords of Slugging.
Tomorrow, 5 minutes earlier than usual, you will find a gas receipt laying at the bus shelter alter with my solemn promise to behave written in oil and tears. Just please, please give me a nice, quiet ride to work for at least a few days in a row!!!
Please?
Your humble slugging servant,
ME
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Creepy Casanova Strikes Again
Isn't it just my luck that I keep running into the ONE GUY who has pissed me off the MOST over and over and over again?
Mr. Creepy Casanova (the guy who struck out with Blondie a few months ago) was in line in front of me today. There were 3 people initially separating us. I INSTANTLY saw him as I walked up the line, and my stomach lurched just a little. It's a good thing I didn't have time to eat breakfast yet!
Despite the people buffer, he sees me walking up and flashes me the biggest, cheesiest, makes-me-want-to-take-an-acid-shower kind of smile I've ever seen, and he says in a very deliberate deep voice "hi there." The closest comparison I can come up with is Matt Dillon's character in "There's Something About Mary." ICK! He's got so many of the same characteristics as Dillon's character! He's got the big, fluffy hair, the giant teeth, the overly bushy flavor-saver. He wears gold bracelets and necklaces, and his cologne is strong enough to knock you unconscious. In fact, knowing his MO, I wouldn't doubt it if his cologne is a watered-down version of chloroform that will actually knock a woman unconscious if she gets too close.
Anyway, in response to his overly friendly greeting (especially considering our history), I pulled out my Blackberry and turned my back to him. Unfortunately for me, I go to the one destination that doesn't bring in a lot of drivers. So, it wasn't long before the nice, comfortable distance between us closed. There I was... standing next to the guy who commented on the sun when trying to pick up a woman and who made me walk in the mud. Now he's going to try to get on my good side? Not likely. I just had nothing to say. He literally stood there staring right at me for what seemed like FOREVER. I just checked email, and when I ran out of email to read, I decided it would be a good time to review some of the features of my Blackberry. Riveting stuff. I was painfully aware of his not-so-subtle stare, but I was not about to give him the time of day. Besides, how can I look him in the eye when I know he prefers to enter through the exit, if you know what I mean. An excellent example of things not to share with strangers, if you ask me!!!
As is also my luck, the ride ratio worked out just perfectly so that I had to ride with HIM again! Good lord, what have I done to deserve him?
So, we hop into our middle-class limo, and I decide to kick back with the iPod and relax. I needed a good nap, but it wasn't likely because there was a very VERY talkative, chattering woman also riding with us. I needed to make sure that I left absolutely NO opportunities for Mr. Sunshine to try to strike up a friendly chat with me. I just leaned my head against the window and zoned out facing away from him.
At one point, he inserted himself into the people in the front seat's conversation. I noticed that they basically stopped talking after that. He's such an ass, but at least I got some sleep. :) Good on ya.
This guy is NOT on my list of friends, nor will he ever be. But he is apparently on my list of COWORKERS! Yes, that's right! I recently passed him leaving the building I was entering! Oh boy! How long will it be before we get stuck working together? No offense boss, but I'm going on unemployment before I work 2 seconds with that creep!
As if being around him isn't annoying enough, I woke myself up from my little catnap SNORING in the backseat! Wow, I'm one hot babe!! Embarrassed and annoyed, I just counted the seconds until the car stopped.
When we arrived at our destination, we started to get out of the car, and he offered me his HAND! SERIOUSLY? I'm not normally rude, but for him, I would rather not have any kind of physical contact.
I simply said "No thanks. I don't need mud on my shoes today." Then I ducked into Starbucks to avoid having to walk next to him but not before taking in a deep breath of his "cologne"!! It took me at least a good 15 minutes to regain single-vision and not feel light-headed.
Why me?
Happy slugging!
Mr. Creepy Casanova (the guy who struck out with Blondie a few months ago) was in line in front of me today. There were 3 people initially separating us. I INSTANTLY saw him as I walked up the line, and my stomach lurched just a little. It's a good thing I didn't have time to eat breakfast yet!
Despite the people buffer, he sees me walking up and flashes me the biggest, cheesiest, makes-me-want-to-take-an-acid-shower kind of smile I've ever seen, and he says in a very deliberate deep voice "hi there." The closest comparison I can come up with is Matt Dillon's character in "There's Something About Mary." ICK! He's got so many of the same characteristics as Dillon's character! He's got the big, fluffy hair, the giant teeth, the overly bushy flavor-saver. He wears gold bracelets and necklaces, and his cologne is strong enough to knock you unconscious. In fact, knowing his MO, I wouldn't doubt it if his cologne is a watered-down version of chloroform that will actually knock a woman unconscious if she gets too close.
Anyway, in response to his overly friendly greeting (especially considering our history), I pulled out my Blackberry and turned my back to him. Unfortunately for me, I go to the one destination that doesn't bring in a lot of drivers. So, it wasn't long before the nice, comfortable distance between us closed. There I was... standing next to the guy who commented on the sun when trying to pick up a woman and who made me walk in the mud. Now he's going to try to get on my good side? Not likely. I just had nothing to say. He literally stood there staring right at me for what seemed like FOREVER. I just checked email, and when I ran out of email to read, I decided it would be a good time to review some of the features of my Blackberry. Riveting stuff. I was painfully aware of his not-so-subtle stare, but I was not about to give him the time of day. Besides, how can I look him in the eye when I know he prefers to enter through the exit, if you know what I mean. An excellent example of things not to share with strangers, if you ask me!!!
As is also my luck, the ride ratio worked out just perfectly so that I had to ride with HIM again! Good lord, what have I done to deserve him?
So, we hop into our middle-class limo, and I decide to kick back with the iPod and relax. I needed a good nap, but it wasn't likely because there was a very VERY talkative, chattering woman also riding with us. I needed to make sure that I left absolutely NO opportunities for Mr. Sunshine to try to strike up a friendly chat with me. I just leaned my head against the window and zoned out facing away from him.
At one point, he inserted himself into the people in the front seat's conversation. I noticed that they basically stopped talking after that. He's such an ass, but at least I got some sleep. :) Good on ya.
This guy is NOT on my list of friends, nor will he ever be. But he is apparently on my list of COWORKERS! Yes, that's right! I recently passed him leaving the building I was entering! Oh boy! How long will it be before we get stuck working together? No offense boss, but I'm going on unemployment before I work 2 seconds with that creep!
As if being around him isn't annoying enough, I woke myself up from my little catnap SNORING in the backseat! Wow, I'm one hot babe!! Embarrassed and annoyed, I just counted the seconds until the car stopped.
When we arrived at our destination, we started to get out of the car, and he offered me his HAND! SERIOUSLY? I'm not normally rude, but for him, I would rather not have any kind of physical contact.
I simply said "No thanks. I don't need mud on my shoes today." Then I ducked into Starbucks to avoid having to walk next to him but not before taking in a deep breath of his "cologne"!! It took me at least a good 15 minutes to regain single-vision and not feel light-headed.
Why me?
Happy slugging!
Friday, January 25, 2008
DC Slug High School
A lot of us couldn't wait to get out of high school. Some of us were looking forward to starting a new chapter of our lives that didn't involve backstabbing cliques and a relentless rumor mill that could destroy someone's reputation in a nanosecond. Unfortunately, it appears that those high school characteristics never go away, they simply shift to an adult crowd.
It's not uncommon to get to know the names and faces of those people who slug with you, especially if you are on a regular schedule. It's also not uncommon to get to know some of their "stories." If you stand in line long enough, which I do, you start to learn who knows whom and who likes whom. It is basically like high school. Cliques form. People develop grudges. It's a neverending cycle of immaturity.
Today, I heard some ladies talking about some other ladies who slug from our line. If there would have been a few more "like"s thrown into it, I would have sworn I was in high school again.
First, they were talking about a guy in the line (think football player grows up, loses hair, gains a few pounds). They were giggling and whispering like they were plotting to ask him to go "steady." Good lord! So, out of curiosity, I checked it out. Yeah, he was cute in a middle-aged, getting soft, probably works on computers now kind of way. But these ladies were smitten. I figure there is a shortage of available men in their office for them to have focused in on this guy so closely. Anyway, they giggled and whispered about him for what seemed like forever until, thank God, he got a ride and left.
In the absence of male butt cheeks to giggle about, they turned their juvenile energy on a particular woman who appears to have some sort of connection to them. The woman was standing there, all alone, in line minding her own business. They started picking her apart. They criticized everything she was wearing, how she does her hair, the color lipstick she was wearing. They stopped short of making fun of her purse for some reason, but personally I felt that was the worst part of her ensemble. Clearly, they are no authorities.
After they performed a fashion autopsy (incomplete as it was), they moved to a discussion of her dating habits. It went like this:
Woman 1: "Did you hear that she dated Joe from the 3rd floor?"
Woman 2: "(dog-like giggle) Who hasn't?"
Woman 1: "He dumped her because she wanted to get serious."
Woman 2: "I heard he dumped her because she had an STD."
Woman 1: "No WAY!??"
Woman 2: "OH Yes! She's a walking VD. (dog-like giggle...snort)"
Woman 1: "Well, Jenny told me that she was trying to get Joe to have a baby with her but he wasn't interested. He wanted to get away from her as fast as he could!"
Woman 2: "(dog-like giggle...snort...squeal) She's a tramp anyway."
Wow, I think my face just broke out and my breasts got smaller.
Now, keep in mind that I'm standing roughly in between these ladies and where this poor VD-ridden woman with no taste in purses was standing. I know she could hear them, especially as the distance between them shrank as the line moved along. I felt bad for her, and I felt like I should help. People were all sort of standing there uncomfortably acting as if they aren't hearing all this.
My ride arrived, and I had to walk past Syph-girl. Just like in High School, I did what I could to stand up for those who were undeservedly targeted by those who have low self-esteem. She seemed like she was getting an unnecessary roasting, so I tried to help her out.
In a not-so-subtle way, I said to her, and everyone else in line, as I approached my ride "I heard that the woman in the black coat slept with Bobby in the backseat of his Mom's car, but he won't touch her again because her left nipple is hairy and inverted."
Everyone laughed. (Except the lady in the black coat and her BFF.)
Needless to say, I expect they will find things to say about me the next time we find ourselves in line together.
Since I have an impeccable fashion sense and my purse rocks, they will have to dig up something on my prom date.
GO! FIGHT! WIN! LET THE GAMES BEGIN! :)
It's not uncommon to get to know the names and faces of those people who slug with you, especially if you are on a regular schedule. It's also not uncommon to get to know some of their "stories." If you stand in line long enough, which I do, you start to learn who knows whom and who likes whom. It is basically like high school. Cliques form. People develop grudges. It's a neverending cycle of immaturity.
Today, I heard some ladies talking about some other ladies who slug from our line. If there would have been a few more "like"s thrown into it, I would have sworn I was in high school again.
First, they were talking about a guy in the line (think football player grows up, loses hair, gains a few pounds). They were giggling and whispering like they were plotting to ask him to go "steady." Good lord! So, out of curiosity, I checked it out. Yeah, he was cute in a middle-aged, getting soft, probably works on computers now kind of way. But these ladies were smitten. I figure there is a shortage of available men in their office for them to have focused in on this guy so closely. Anyway, they giggled and whispered about him for what seemed like forever until, thank God, he got a ride and left.
In the absence of male butt cheeks to giggle about, they turned their juvenile energy on a particular woman who appears to have some sort of connection to them. The woman was standing there, all alone, in line minding her own business. They started picking her apart. They criticized everything she was wearing, how she does her hair, the color lipstick she was wearing. They stopped short of making fun of her purse for some reason, but personally I felt that was the worst part of her ensemble. Clearly, they are no authorities.
After they performed a fashion autopsy (incomplete as it was), they moved to a discussion of her dating habits. It went like this:
Woman 1: "Did you hear that she dated Joe from the 3rd floor?"
Woman 2: "(dog-like giggle) Who hasn't?"
Woman 1: "He dumped her because she wanted to get serious."
Woman 2: "I heard he dumped her because she had an STD."
Woman 1: "No WAY!??"
Woman 2: "OH Yes! She's a walking VD. (dog-like giggle...snort)"
Woman 1: "Well, Jenny told me that she was trying to get Joe to have a baby with her but he wasn't interested. He wanted to get away from her as fast as he could!"
Woman 2: "(dog-like giggle...snort...squeal) She's a tramp anyway."
Wow, I think my face just broke out and my breasts got smaller.
Now, keep in mind that I'm standing roughly in between these ladies and where this poor VD-ridden woman with no taste in purses was standing. I know she could hear them, especially as the distance between them shrank as the line moved along. I felt bad for her, and I felt like I should help. People were all sort of standing there uncomfortably acting as if they aren't hearing all this.
My ride arrived, and I had to walk past Syph-girl. Just like in High School, I did what I could to stand up for those who were undeservedly targeted by those who have low self-esteem. She seemed like she was getting an unnecessary roasting, so I tried to help her out.
In a not-so-subtle way, I said to her, and everyone else in line, as I approached my ride "I heard that the woman in the black coat slept with Bobby in the backseat of his Mom's car, but he won't touch her again because her left nipple is hairy and inverted."
Everyone laughed. (Except the lady in the black coat and her BFF.)
Needless to say, I expect they will find things to say about me the next time we find ourselves in line together.
Since I have an impeccable fashion sense and my purse rocks, they will have to dig up something on my prom date.
GO! FIGHT! WIN! LET THE GAMES BEGIN! :)
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