It was bound to happen sooner or later, and the week after Memorial Day is as logical a time as any: The start of the Summer Traffic Nightmare has officially begun! As I was waiting on the Van Dorn Metro Station platform I knew I was screwed when the train stopped just before it entered the station and waited there for five minutes. I could see the train, so close yet so far away, mocking me, taunting me by waiting just out of reach…then, when it finally came into the station I saw that every single car was packed to capacity. I, along with a thousand others, shuffled onboard in that awkward way that says, “I’m trying to be courteous but please move your fat ass so I can get on!” I staked my claim (near the center I might add!) and waited for the doors to close…and waited…and waited…until…nothing happened. No word from the conductor, no explanation, we simply sat there. For five minutes. Waiting. Finally, the doors closed and we slowly lurched out of the station. And then stopped. And then lurched some more. And then stopped. This continued on for another…oh, let me see…hell, it’s probably still going on! What normally takes me 15 minutes took 45, but that wasn’t the worst. The worst were the two early twentyish people in my car who COULDN’T SHUT THE HELL UP!!!! The entire friggin’ time he was standing there, cracking jokes about his workplace to this girl who apparently works with him, and while his jokes were irritating enough, her incessant giggling made it even worse! That guy was either the funniest son-of-a-bitch on the planet, or she’s a moron who laughs at everything. Everyone in the car was getting agitated, and I really wanted to shout out, “Dude! Get laid on your own time!” Finally, mercifully, we pulled into the Crystal City Station and the shuffle began again, except that no one seemed to be making any progress. The car and the platform were both so filled with people that there was no place to move! Sure enough, the next thing I hear is “Doors closing,” followed shortly by, “Stand back to allow the doors to close,” followed by, “Get the hell out of the way so I can close the damn doors!” By this point I had managed to get out of the car. Granted, it involved pushing some children out of the way, going around a fat guy, and knocking down a a paralyzed midget, but I got out. (Thanks George Carlin for the tip!) On my way out of the station I slammed my smart card against the card reader as a way of expressing my displeasure. I think the reader enjoyed it.
Archive for May, 2009
In the Washington Post Express there was an article about the lack of courtesy metro riders show towards people with disabilities by not offering them their seats. The picture they used to make their point was of a blind woman and her seeing eye dog standing in the aisle holding onto one of the support poles. All I could think of was, ‘Do her legs not work either?’
Yesterday was my birthday, so happy birthday to me! For being a ‘nothing’ birthday (who really cares about 28 anyways?) it was a fantastic birthday! It all started in the morning on my way to work. (technically, it started last Saturday when our neighbors and good friends came over for dinner and brought a homemade lemon cake, which was absolutely delicious. The cake barely survived the night and didn’t make it past Sunday. They also got me gifts: Two DVD’s and a 64 box of crayons with the sharpener in the back, thereby filling a hole in my soul that has been left vacant since the 3rd grade. Don’t ask, just accept. Anyways, back to my actual birthday…) Everyday I walk past a bakery that has these incredibly sinful and decadent muffins sitting in the window, and everyday I tell myself to hold out until my birthday. Well, yesterday was the day, and it was completely worth the wait! The muffin was fantastic! In fact, it wasn’t even really a muffin – it was some sort of light, flaky thing that looked like a muffin and it had creme and sugar all over it. I think it might have been the love child of a muffin and a croissant. Either way, it was an awesome way to start my birthday. After work I went home to find a big, homemade, chocolate cake that my wife had made waiting for me. That was awesome. Then I looked to the left of the cake and saw a huge mound of presents! I got filters for my camera, a new tripod, a flash, books on the next two presidents I have to read, the complete series of Moonlight (which, sadly, is only 16 episodes), and…I think that’s it…but I’m probably forgetting something. After presents my wife and I then went to see ‘StarTrek,’ which was absolutely incredible! You have to see this movie! I’ll write about this more later, but for now just take my word for it and go see it! You won’t regret it! After the movie we then went and had sushi for dinner, which in hindsight may not have been the best idea – note to self: Never eat sushi right before going to bed. Strange dreams…strange dreams…all I remember is it involved Captain Kirk, the driver of the shuttle bus, and a giant squid covered in wasabi. So, aside from the strange dreams, an absolutely incredible birthday. Thanks to everyone who made it so!
Everywhere you look you see the results of overzealous, don’t-contribute-anything-to-society soccer moms: Playgrounds made out of plastic that are so safe as to take all the fun out of recess; day care centers where there are more disinefecant wipes than crayons; kids attached to their parents via A LEASH. All of these things lead to one inescapable conclusion – kids today are pussies. I’m not saying it’s their fault, it’s not, it’s the fault of their parents, but that still doesn’t negate the fact that in the end, these kids are giant pussies. I cringe at the thought of what America will be like in 30 years when these pussies take over and are responsible for shit. It ain’t gonna be pretty. But here’s the good news: Compared to the rest of generation P, my kids are going to look like supermen! My plan is to get a house with a big enough back yard that I can go and buy / build all the old playground equipment that I loved to play on when I was growing up – no fancy colors, nothing plastic, just good old fashion steel bars welded together into some sort of monkey cage that stood 15 feet off the ground. I loved that thing.
We used to play bar tag on that sucker, and the only rule was that you couldn’t touch the ground. Sure, a lot of kids cried and I probably did long-term damage to my knees from constantly jumping off the top of that thing, but you know what – it taught you how to sack up and be a man. I’m sick of kids today being rewarded for every stupid thing they do – we don’t need the religious right to oppose Darwin’s theory of evolution, the ultra liberals are doing just fine on their own! By making it seem like everyone is equal, we are robbing our kids of the opportunity to learn that everyone is NOT equal. I know, I know, it’s shocking to hear, but it’s the truth. And what better place for your kids to learn that some people are better at some things than others than on the playground? So, when my future kids start to develop their motor skills I’m going to make sure they have access to the most death-defying playground equipment available – the spinner that taught you about centrifugal force (and vomit), the monkey bars that taught you about gravity, the metal slides that taught you about thermodynamics, and the giant wooden structures that taught you about splinters – and if I can’t find any, I’ll go to Home Depot, buy some iron beams, weld that shit together, and build it myself. Kids need to hurt themselves if they ever want to learn – what’s the best way to learn not to put your hands in the fire – it’s by putting your hands in the fire! That kid will learn pretty damn quick that putting ones hand in the fire is not a good idea! So here’s what I say to all those yuppies out there who spray everything down with disinfectant (and then wonder why their kids are allergic to everything), won’t let their kids play on playground equipment that isn’t covered in foam padding, and think that you deserve a star just for showing up to class – keep it up! Because when those kids are all grown up, they’ll still be giant pussies, and my kids will kick their ass.
I have less than seven hours before I go on vacation and I don’t know if I’ll make it. It’s like coming back from deployment – I can see the shoreline, we’re starting to man the watch, but I know it’s going to be at least 5 hours worth of transit before we actually pull in, followed by the longest hour of your life as you wait for the dock workers to put the friggin’ brow in place! Meanwhile, freedom awaits you on the other side, and you start thinking that maybe you can take a running leap and jump from the ship to the pier, but what if you miss, then you’re screwed, but it seems so close…oh boy, this is going to be a long seven hours…
I was checking out my blog stats when I realized that the number of comments reported does not equal the number of comments posted, so I went into the spam folder to see what had been blocked and found comments from my mother! Apparently, the wordpress spam filters think my mom is spam! Do they know something I don’t? Just kidding, Mom, you’re the best, and nutritious too! 🙂
Normally, I tend to shy away from any clothing store that plays techno music, but I have to admit that the only place to go for a new pair of pants is Express, specifically the one at the Pentagon City Mall. In case you haven’t tried on a pair, Express Producer Pants are made of a material that has the remarkable ability to make your ass look fantastic. I think its a blend of cotton, rayon, and awesome. Not sure about the cotton. The other reason to shop at Express is that it’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to an Asian brothel. Seriously. Have you ever been in that store! It’s nothing but young (legal disclaimer – young equals 21 or older!), really attractive women wearing the least amount of clothing possible while still not being considered in your underwear / naked. The best though is the store manager – while all of the sales people are young, the manager appears to be mid-twenties (I know, a veritable dinosaur by Express standards) but it’s her outfits that really complete the Asian brothel image. This woman is always dressed to the nines, and it is always something that straddles the line between ‘sexy college professor’ and ‘madame.’ I mean, she alone is responsible for about 25% of the cleavage in the entire mall! When she welcomes me into the store I feel as though I’m being led into a private VIP lounge – and the fact that the changing rooms are in the back doesn’t help either! Whenver one of the sales staff asks me if they can help me with my pants I have to make sure they’re not referring to the pair I’m wearing! My point here is this – Go to the Pentagon City Express! Just make sure to knock three times on the door, and, while exhibiting the proper amount of discretion, ask them, “Perhaps you can help me find a new pair of pants…”