This Week's Kill List.
1) The thousand misspellings of the word girl. "Gurl?" "Grrlllllll?!?" It's GIRL, stupid! No amount of bastardization of the English language will empower your womanhood! You don't make yourself seem any stronger, more secure with being a womyn, or closer to breaking the glass ceiling. You just look like you are barely writing at a second grade level. Jeeeeesus!
2) Saying 'itch' instead of 'scratch.' Aaaah, the most infuriating linguistic pet peeve ever. You need to itch your foot, do you? You need to actually cause your foot to have a distressing tingling sensation? Are you a masochist? Stupid.
3) Cab driver liar liar pants on fires. And by that, and this is a New York specific thing, I mean cabbies that simultaneously turn on their idle middle light and their 'Off Duty' light, then stop when you're hailing, thus making you miss other passing cabs that are legitimately for hire, and don't let you in until you tell them exactly where you're going - and double hex points go to the ones that say "no" and drive away because they'd have to drop you off three blocks out of the way from the most direct route to the taxi depot in Queens. Thanks for making me wait another ten minutes on the off chance you might make another four bucks and no tip, you douche.
4) Subway pervs. And disturbingly enough, this is a phenomenon that is veeery common. Case in point: last Wednesday I was on a very crowded F train heading home after a very long work day. As usual, I am standing in the doorway and leaning against it with my side - I don't like the middle of the train because you have to hold onto a railing of some sort and I'm a crazy germophobe. Okay, maybe not a germophobe like my mom or anything, but I prefer not to sweep the cellular skin rubbish of hobos and children with my bare hands. Aaaaaaanyway, the doorway is a danger zone in and of itself because it tends to be the most crowded, so there's lots of surface touching between travelers. On this particular day, I had the misfortune of standing scrunched next to a particularly malodorous Hispanic man. (No, not the Elderly Puertorican - this guy had more of a drunk, paint-spattered migrant day-laborer kind of vibe going on.) As I'm standing there, I realize that the guy is kinda rubbing up against my leg a little. Gross, right? So I shift into the spare inch of space between me and the other person I'm sandwiched against, and move away from smelly hand-for-hire. A few seconds later, he's right back in there, sidling up to my thigh, rubbing up, rub rub rub. Rub rub rub rub. This time I give him a dirty look, and he just smiles lecherously. So I bury my stiletto into his toes and he stops and turns into a corner. Fine. But then... As I'm exiting the train, he turns to me and full on exposes the fact that his fly is unzipped, and there's just a tiny bit of exposed hairy flesh, and I realize that he was beating off in the corner the entire time. And the sad thing is, this type of shit happens EVERY DAY. I hate you, perverts.
5) The phone call. Hey, Unemployed Friend. Once and for all, when you call me at work and say, "Soooo..... What are you doing?" Answer: MY JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOB!!!
6) Proud bloggers. More particularly, people who are open, even public about it, call themselves bloggers, hell, I even saw a guy the other day wearing a Blogspot t-shirt with the word blogger in big letter proudly splayed across the chest. These people fill me with mild guilt, furor, some homocidal tendencies, and general anathema and confusion. I don't like it when I feel that way.
7) SNM soccer. Dear Serbia and Montenegrin soccer team: one day soon, your whole family's gonna die. Have a good trip home, fuckers.
8) Jared Leto. Once upon a time, Jared Leto was a dreamboat actor whose seminal character Jordan Catalano loomed like a Titan in my nocturnal fantasies. Today, Jared Leto is a pretentious douchebag actor-musician who wears a ton of eyeliner and creates sub-par pop dribble as the frontman of his vanity project 30 Seconds to Mars. When he's not hanging out at cool industry parties or fucking starlets or doing massive lines of blow off of the toilet lid or shopping with his stylist for just the right ironically trendy hoodie-attached-to-a-button-down-attached-to-a-blazer, he's probably a furious masturbator and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he was addicted to Everquest. Or gay porn. Or gummi bears. (Oooooh, gummi bears...)
2) Saying 'itch' instead of 'scratch.' Aaaah, the most infuriating linguistic pet peeve ever. You need to itch your foot, do you? You need to actually cause your foot to have a distressing tingling sensation? Are you a masochist? Stupid.
3) Cab driver liar liar pants on fires. And by that, and this is a New York specific thing, I mean cabbies that simultaneously turn on their idle middle light and their 'Off Duty' light, then stop when you're hailing, thus making you miss other passing cabs that are legitimately for hire, and don't let you in until you tell them exactly where you're going - and double hex points go to the ones that say "no" and drive away because they'd have to drop you off three blocks out of the way from the most direct route to the taxi depot in Queens. Thanks for making me wait another ten minutes on the off chance you might make another four bucks and no tip, you douche.
4) Subway pervs. And disturbingly enough, this is a phenomenon that is veeery common. Case in point: last Wednesday I was on a very crowded F train heading home after a very long work day. As usual, I am standing in the doorway and leaning against it with my side - I don't like the middle of the train because you have to hold onto a railing of some sort and I'm a crazy germophobe. Okay, maybe not a germophobe like my mom or anything, but I prefer not to sweep the cellular skin rubbish of hobos and children with my bare hands. Aaaaaaanyway, the doorway is a danger zone in and of itself because it tends to be the most crowded, so there's lots of surface touching between travelers. On this particular day, I had the misfortune of standing scrunched next to a particularly malodorous Hispanic man. (No, not the Elderly Puertorican - this guy had more of a drunk, paint-spattered migrant day-laborer kind of vibe going on.) As I'm standing there, I realize that the guy is kinda rubbing up against my leg a little. Gross, right? So I shift into the spare inch of space between me and the other person I'm sandwiched against, and move away from smelly hand-for-hire. A few seconds later, he's right back in there, sidling up to my thigh, rubbing up, rub rub rub. Rub rub rub rub. This time I give him a dirty look, and he just smiles lecherously. So I bury my stiletto into his toes and he stops and turns into a corner. Fine. But then... As I'm exiting the train, he turns to me and full on exposes the fact that his fly is unzipped, and there's just a tiny bit of exposed hairy flesh, and I realize that he was beating off in the corner the entire time. And the sad thing is, this type of shit happens EVERY DAY. I hate you, perverts.
5) The phone call. Hey, Unemployed Friend. Once and for all, when you call me at work and say, "Soooo..... What are you doing?" Answer: MY JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOB!!!
6) Proud bloggers. More particularly, people who are open, even public about it, call themselves bloggers, hell, I even saw a guy the other day wearing a Blogspot t-shirt with the word blogger in big letter proudly splayed across the chest. These people fill me with mild guilt, furor, some homocidal tendencies, and general anathema and confusion. I don't like it when I feel that way.
7) SNM soccer. Dear Serbia and Montenegrin soccer team: one day soon, your whole family's gonna die. Have a good trip home, fuckers.
8) Jared Leto. Once upon a time, Jared Leto was a dreamboat actor whose seminal character Jordan Catalano loomed like a Titan in my nocturnal fantasies. Today, Jared Leto is a pretentious douchebag actor-musician who wears a ton of eyeliner and creates sub-par pop dribble as the frontman of his vanity project 30 Seconds to Mars. When he's not hanging out at cool industry parties or fucking starlets or doing massive lines of blow off of the toilet lid or shopping with his stylist for just the right ironically trendy hoodie-attached-to-a-button-down-attached-to-a-blazer, he's probably a furious masturbator and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he was addicted to Everquest. Or gay porn. Or gummi bears. (Oooooh, gummi bears...)
posted by Attica Wolfcastle, Esq. at 1:34 PM
3 Comments:
MIA again????
wassup gurlfrend! when i get back imma need u2 itch my sweet spot on the L train like we used 2. Hed back to my place and rock out to 30 Seconds to Mars and then blog about it afterwards. yummy.
How is it that I have not known about this for so long. You should move to Hollywood and write situational comedies starring Mick Mars.
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