State of the Subway Address

I hop on the Path train at the Hoboken station. I'm one of the few people standing. Minutes drag on and the train gets full. People crowd around the pole I'm holding on to. As the doors close a blonde woman rushes in and squeezes her way to the pole where there are already too many people (not that there aren't other areas she could have moved to). In front of me is a pocket of space in between the two people standing by the doors -a woman with a backpack so big I question if she's hiding two corpses inside and some guy who reeks of curry (why does he smell like this at 8 in the morning I don't know. Who has curry for breakfast?).

The blonde woman who squeezed into the train at the last minute is standing behind me and holding her handbag in front of her so that for the entire ride from Hoboken to 9th street it hits my legs every few seconds. I look back a couple times to see if she's doing it on purpose but the second time she catches my look and says something which I thought was going to be "i'm sorry, i'm such a bitch" but when I asked her to repeat it she said "can you move over there" with an uptight constipated flair, and points to the space next to me, the one between the guy reeking of curry and the woman with the huge backpack. What??? Where's my apology you cunt?

I don't say anything, Why? I'm not in the mood to argue AND smell curry at 8 in the morning. (my defense mechanism doesn't kick in until around noon). I move and what happens? I don't even get a thank you. The smell of curry is so much more powerful and now I have to deal with the other woman and her huge backpack bumping into me every few seconds, which is why I that space was empty to begin with and also why she didn't ask me to move out of the way so she could walk over there herself.

She got off on 23rd, miss white button down blouse, white khaki pants and matching handbag which apparently doubles as a harassing device. I love your hair parted off center to the right and your bright red lipstick which scream "I love using old issues of Marie Claire as a guide to dress myself". I am sorry you are so bitter about not being born with that penis you wanted so badly that you now believe the world should gravitate around your quivering vagina.

Normally, I tend to ignore the sardine effect on the train. But I notice that Hoboken tends to attract a certain strata of people who say "f**k social rules! my back hurts from all the drinking and mild sex I've been having. I'm going to use this here pole that everyone's supposed to hold on to -so they don't fall and make complete arses out of themselves when the train starts moving- as a place for me to recline on". Great! When you leave, people get to touch the spots where your ass and dandruff just were. If you're not going to hold on to the pole or start stripping, don't be the jerk who pulls a Columbus and says "Mine!" because he got to the pole first. And then there are the people who LIKE TO TALK REALLY LOUDLY SO THAT EVERYONE CAN HEAR ABOUT YOUR AMAZING MASSAGE GUY AND SEXY MEMBERSHIP PHOTO.

It's no wonder why NYers and NJ transit riders are so upset all the time. We have to deal with this day in and day out.
To my fellow commuters, I look forward to an equally laborious ride with you this evening. I also look forward to the moment our rolling-of-the-eyes meet each other when the tired guy in the seat between us takes turns toppling into our laps in his subway slumber. Those moments where our eyes meet in mutual disgust over a moron we've both been bothered by make my heart melt and turn into that steaming pile of fertizer from which new vegetation grows. It's so Casa Blanca.

To Bloomberg who rides the train everyday: please investigate this blonde androgynous 'woman' I mentioned. Please check her bag before she enters and leaves the train every morning. Judging by the shape of the objects in her bag that were pressing against my legs on the train this morning, she is either packing a pipe bomb or an extra-large strap-on. Your findings are very important as not only are there innocent lives at stake but I have a 20 riding on the answer.

Things that happened to me this week

1. a Danish I bought from Au Bon had an acrylic nail in it
2. my dentist charged me $375 for a teeth whitening kit that I found on Amazon for $50
3. a baby finch committed suicide outside my window
4. my doctor gave me a 2:30 appointment when he closed his office at 2.
5. my cat left a shat on my blanket while I slept

All About My Money

I bought this cellphone from Wireless Experts on Ebay. With an overwhelming feedback number (only ,04 % was negative) I figured I'd go for it. Well, the thing is for 02 service which is somewhere out in Europe and there is virtually no sound pick-up. To make a long painful story short, they refunded my money sans 20% for restocking fees. Huh? Let's go back some umpteenth years When I was a teenager and I bought an iron from this local shop run by suspicious Arabs. It didn't work. When I tried to return it for my 40 bucks they yelled at each other and then at me telling me I didn't know how to iron. Then they pointed out this 20& restocking fee as well and handed me $32 dollars. How is this legal? I offered to put the damn thing back in their stock room myself so that I could get 8 dollars back but of course they didn't bite. America is in favor for capital venture and it protects the corporation over the consumer which, in my opinion, is fucked up. So, in the long run, they get 8 dollars and the opportunity to sell this item over an over again to unsuspecting people and I get an aneurism.

Fast forward to the present. I spent close to $50 dollars in shipping charges for this piece of **** (to send it to me and then return it). These scumbags are keeping 60 dollars of my money for "restocking fees". Ebay used to be a place where people could sell the stuff they decided they didn't want or the stuff they stole off a truck in the middle of the night. Now they have scumbags charging you restocking fees. Why does Ebay allow this? Because Ebay still gets a dime off their rip-off scheme. So I get an email response along the lines of: Sorry Sir or Madam, We have to get by too. Life's tough. Grow thicker skin.
I've opened a dispute with Paypal which, I'm certain, will result in the favor of Wireless Experts because life plays favorites to a$$holes.

Last month my computer had a blue screen of death. I called Dell and was told I had to pay $50 dollars for an expired warrantee one-time service. I spend 4 hours on the phone with 8 different reps who didn't know how to fix it. I'm still waiting for my refund.
Then I'm getting these $14.95 monthly charges from 24 Protect Plus for some "savings account" I never signed up for. I opened another checking account last year after only dealing in cash. This is exactly what happens. To get your money back is a bitch and even the banks that hold your money, protects the merchant over your business with them.

What can you do? You can call these companies and spend all your minutes on hold with them or write angry letters (or angry posts for that matter). So I've decided to put my old non-operational cellphone on ebay with a 20% restocking fee policy. I figured I could dupe dozens of people while generating enough to buy a new operational one. I'm not taking this sitting down. I'm fighting fire with bulls**t.

Easter Eggs, Italian Food & TV

Mildred came over yesterday and we painted Graffiti Easter eggs. We had Graffiti eggs and then eggs that were drawn in the likeness of people we hated and we called them as such. Andrew the jerk-off from Equity egg, Kevin the lying-fuck-ex-boyfriend egg, Sandra the-bitch-who-took-all-my-stuff-egg. Millie, as she'd rather be called, got egg gunk everywhere on my sofa since she pressed a green felt tip sharpie too hard into the Prick-that-got-her-pregnant egg and got bits of yolk and shell all over: in the cracks, cushions, all over. We laughed at first until after I wiped it up and there were hard yellow streaks and a smell like garbage coming from the couch. She told me I was supposed to boil the eggs first but that seemed like a lot of work. I got depressed later when I thought of the baby chick dead on my sofa and then grossed out when Millie told me that the egg never would have been a baby but what I did have was the equivalent of a chicken's period on my couch.

Millie brought over a Breakfast at Tiffany's DVD. I saw it once before and guess it was alright. I kept asking her what the Breakfast part of the movie was about since I never saw them actually eating anything, just cocktails, and if maybe the Breakfast at Tiffany's line was a metaphor for something. She didn't answer the first few times because she thought I was joking. She finally told me the title was a line taken from the actual movie when that chick says let's have breakfast at 'Tiffany's' but I didn't get it because I was still waiting for them to meet up in a diner and I asked her if maybe there was a diner scene as part of the extras on the DVD.

I like movies that take place in diners, like that one with the guy from Mad About You and a bunch of other people who are eating all dressed up in suits. And Frankie & Johnny even though it's a chick flick a lot of it takes place in the diner itself, which I like. I'm not so big on movies but I am on food so it's a plus if I get to watch different foods on a big screen because I like to imagine I have a steak as big as a Chevy or a pile of potatoes that's the size of a bunny slope.

Later on Big Josh came by to watch the Sopranos. We call him Big Josh because he's big, both ways, vertically and horizontally. I like it when he sits on one side because he sinks way in and the other end of the couch looks like it's about to lift from the ground, almost like a see-saw. He loves the Sopranos and likes to watch it in my apartment since I live in Little Italy he says it feels more authentic that way. I don't like the Sopranos so much. The first episode I ever watched I cold totally tell that Tony & Carmela's accent was fake, esp since I first saw Tony Soprano talking on a cellphone in mid-town and he spoke like a total normal American wuss. "Please" and "thank you" all over the place. Please and thank you my ass.

So Josh came over and we ordered from a restaurant down the block. He said "Now tis is sum real Eye-talian food" but he just got angry when I told him a lot of these places hire Mexicans to cook the food. So Josh left right after the show but still took all the leftovers with him.

Right before I went to sleep I went to check on the new automatic litter box I got for Dinkins, my cat. Millie says that name is very politically incorrect, even after I pointed out that the cat was kind of a grayish in color like the former mayor. Dinkins didn't go anywhere near the thing. I think he's upset about change, just as we all are. So I brought out his old one but right before I found out what he WAS using - my big bonsai plant that was the first thing I bought for my apartment years ago. Millie thinks it'll live but I tell her that this is much bigger and far worse than egg yolk on my sofa, which, by the way, isn't coming out. I used some green Palmolive dish liquid to foam it out but now the streaks are green. Nite