Miss(ed) Manners

April 19, 2008

I Love it When a Plan Comes Together.

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 11:17 am

I also love it when I quote the A-team.

Anyway, I’m in Boston on bidness and I’m halfway through whatever it is that I do, and it’s just an amazing feeling to see everything that I thought would succeed succeed in such a succeedingly manner. I mean, not that I don’t go around touting my genius to anyone who listen, but damnit if I won’t do it here to no one in particular.

Who’s a genius?

This guy.

Wish I could put more down, but being a genius is hard work. I’ve got so much tired in my bones that I’m not sure they’re even bones anymore. I may simply have cartilage at this point, like a shark.

April 18, 2008

Renewal

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 11:34 pm

I still hate Boston just for its cabs. They make abso-fucking-lutely no sense. Why on earth would you have a light on your cab if you are not going to use it? For serious.

Also, I was taking a cab back the hotel the other night and I got a five minute story about how un-unionized cab drivers tore the city apart in 76, beating up non-striking cabbies, burning their cars and beating up the mayor.

This remains the most idiotic town in the world. Sorry.

April 17, 2008

Apparently…

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 9:26 pm
  • Shampoo can double as bubble bath.
  • Heaven is watching 30 Rock and sitting in said bath.
  • Room service costs forty times that of a similar meal in a four star restaurant.
  • I still have pinky toes.
  • Not having a courtesy robe in a hotel room makes me very angry, like arson angry.
  • I actually kind of prefer having another building outside of my window instead of a view of a river.
  • I may be an exhibitionist.
  • Video games are best played when in bed.
  • Drool on a keyboard is just as dangerous as Coca Cola.

April 16, 2008

Ow. Ow. Ow. OW.

Filed under: Uncategorized — missedmanners @ 8:37 pm

I just spent twelve hours walking around on concrete. I feel like my feet have turned into those little gargoyle claws that they have on the bottom of those old tubs. I’ve tried wearing sneakers, two pairs of socks, three pairs of socks, foot pad inserts, those awful gel things that make you want to murder the people in the commercials.

Everything.

And every year my feet hurt just the same.

Is there no miracle shoe?

Seriously, I’m looking for suggestions.

April 15, 2008

Why Must You Rage?

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 7:10 pm

Normally when I need to get somewhere and don’t feel like dealing with the stress of taking the subway, waiting for transfers or lugging bags around I call up our local car service. Metroline Car and Limousine Service of Bushwick has been mine and my roommate’s personal rickshaw company for the entire five and a half years that we’ve been in the borough.

We use it so much, in fact, that I can hum the hold music, recite their tag line in both English and Spanish and I know that when they say, “six minutes” it is an arbitrary number that means anywhere between two minutes and a half an hour. Five minutes means five minutes and seven minutes means you’re not getting a car, tough shit, whitey.

Their cars are clean and usually brand spankin’ new. Nine times out of ten you get a run of the mill Lincoln, although sometimes you get a pimped out Escalade or the Love Van; a mini-van with fur interior and a TV tuner. It’s a tough choice between the two when you want to roll up to a party. Do you go for the dramatic step down from the Escalade in slow motion to some dramatic rap song about something you don’t get by someone you don’t know, or do you want to barrel out of the mini-van laughing at the Seinfeld rerun you were just watching? Tough choice, I know.

Anyway, had a big day on the road today and I didn’t feel like being late or dealing with my overpacked suitcase, so I called up Metro, got the six minute go ahead and was on my way in no time. I made it into the city in good time and without incident until we hit 10th Avenue.

10th Avenue is an interesting place to drive. It’s usually free of any major congestion which you’d think is a good thing, but it’s not. In fact, heavy traffic is the only thing keeping the drivers of New York City from breaking down into all out Lord of the Flies cannibalism. When everyone’s locked up and not moving sure they’re upset and angry and honking all the time, but at least they’re not going fast enough to injure anyone.

So when these frustrated drivers come to an open space like 10th Avenue around 28th Street, it seems like the motherfucking Autobahn. Everyone throws their foot down on the pedal and accelerates like a madman. Of course, they all just have to stop at the next light because they sped up too fast, and so the cycle continues ad infinitum.

This series of burnt rubber starts and stomach punch stops continued long enough always results in lane jockeying and close encounters of the side impact kind. This morning was no exception, and just a few blocks from my destination my hired car almost merged with another. There was a brief moment of panic on my part as a collision like that would have had serious repercussions on the hair-do I’d earlier spent several minutes putting together.

The two cars honked loudly at each other though from my point of view there was no fault in either case, both cars had erratically tried to pass the other and move simultaneously into the other’s lane. How two cars can exist in the same forward position after passing through each other is a bit of a quandary to me. A little Heisenberg-esque, perhaps.

After this roadway altercation took place my driver and the driver of the other car of course started yelling at each other as they raced forward and then stopped at the ensuing lights. Fingers pointed, expletives flew and challenges were issued.

Then the guy sped in front of us and turned down a side street, which happened to be the exact street and corner where I needed to get out. This of course led the other driver to think my driver was getting ready to bring this bit of road rage to the sidewalk, bo-dog style and he slammed on the breaks and shot out of the car.

He ran over to us, and honestly, he looked like a cop. Maybe that’s a generalization or a prejudiced judgement call, but I’ve got undercover radar that’s tuned to within an eight of a mustache length after many years of shady dealings in nightclubs and this guy smelled like bacon, dig?

So he was at our window screaming and shouting and of course my guy is shouting right back, I believe they were discussing whether or not to actually move to the sidewalk. All I know is there was a lot of daring going on, which is when the cop looking guy when to his trunk and, I’m not joking here, pulled out a motherfucking BASEBALL BAT.

Seriously, you can’t make this shit up. Mostly because it’s really not that crazy, it’s actually kind of mundane.

Around this point my driver started to reach under his seat and which froze the cop guy, bat in hand, and made me look instantly at my watch and realize I was fifteen minutes late to meet my co-worker. I threw some money at the driver and started out, walking far away from this idiotic stand off.

As I looked back, the two were still screaming at each other, may I remind you over nothing whatsoever, and there was this poor middle aged chubby man in a derby hat and tweed jacket standing in between them. He looked like an extra from the Monty Python Sketch about racing Middle Class Twits.  He just seemed perplexed by the complete lack of manners.

Which again reminded me of how rude I was being by arriving late, and I walked away.

Anyway, people get in fights over having fast enough reflexes to stop an accident and we wonder why there’s brutal massacres all over the world every day?

Maybe all they need in Darfur is a congested national highway system so people can get their rage out on the road like us civilized idiots.

April 14, 2008

The Day After Today

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 11:24 am

Here’s a quick run down of what I’ve got to do tomorrow:

  • Get in the fifteen foot truck that we spent twelve hours loading, unloading, organizing and the reorganizing and reloading and eventually completely overloading at seven in the morning.
  • Politely let my perennially incompetent co-worker who, because of his incompetence, will be sleep deprived to the point of mispronunciation, drive the first leg of the trip up to Boston.
  • Grip the dashboard white knuckled and pray every second as our forty ton behemoth lumbers up route 95, swerving in and out of our lane until said incompetent co-worker allows me to drive.
  • Get behind the wheel and drive the remaining 95% of the way on zero shocks, scraping mud flats and through traffic thick with Mass-holes.
  • Unload truck. Actually I don’t have to do that, I get to watch that happen. It’s a highlight.
  • Plead with co-worker who’s been sleeping the entire time, NOT to go to Home Depot to pick up things that he’s of course forgotten as this will take another twelve hours.
  • Arrive at hotel around midnight.
  • Order room service.
  • Shower.
  • Shower again, hopefully removing shame (this is not work related).
  • Go to the hotel restaurant and (now free of shame) shamelessly hit on the bitter divorcee behind the bar.
  • Compliment her on the eye shadow twenty years too young for her.

Not quite sure after that. Off to bed, got a big day tomorrow!

April 13, 2008

Masterful

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 5:03 pm

Okay, it’s a bad picture, but this is our new TV. My roommate got it during the Holidays and I matched his purchase with a Playstation 3. We’re currently watching things at a definition 110% more real that reality itself.

When you’ve got 48″ of pristine super awesome LCD magic golf becomes very important. I’ve never played a round in my life but here I am watching the Masters and every major tournament on network television. Those wide greens are more soothing than a mashed up xanax diluted in warm milk. We even change the sound field on our stereo to dance hall so it sounds like you’re listening to an announcer over a PA system.

Anyway, a big notable in this year’s tournament is this guy below and his gigantic fucking nipples.

Brandt “Nips” Snedeker. This picture doesn’t really do them justice, but this guy was sporting pencil erasers ALL day yesterday. Just eery.

April 12, 2008

Sweet Fucking Summer in a Pleather Handbag

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 12:02 pm

I am on my roof sniping wireless from my neighbor, and it’s 70 degrees.

The first warm, beautiful day in New York is always a good day to take to the streets and see some action. You never know what you’re going to get, really. On one hand you’ve got people who clearly didn’t check the weather and are wearing coats and scarves (even non-hipsters, see below). Then you’ve got people who’ve clearly overestimated the warmth and are wearing tank tops who stick to the sunlit parts of the street because the shaded parts are still arctic cold.

It’s also a grab bag of chance early titty sightings.

I’m pretty sure that when Pope said, “Hope springs eternal in the human breast,” he was talking about hoping to see the first human breasts of the season.

And with the actual pope in town, everything seems to make sense today. Boobs, sunshine and pointy hats.

All is well.

April 11, 2008

Back, I Promise!

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 1:15 pm
Tags:

Alright. So with the below mentioned craziness, I’ve spent the last two weeks doing two people’s jobs as those around me continue to be ineffective at life in general.

However, I’ve purchased a laptop which really ought to eliminate every excuse for not posting every single fucking day. So here I am promising at least a sentence every day.

Also, I saw a very funny thing on the subway to work today.

It was a hipster. If you guys don’t know what New York breed hipsters look like let me give you a hint: They’re different! Or at least that’s what they’re all trying to be. However, they all end up looking exactly the fucking same. They wear the same rainbow brite vest, the same dingy corduroys, the same purposefully out of date oddly rimmed eye glasses. You can even notice slight changes in their group-think style because they all change styles at the same time.

Here’s an example:

It’s like they get each month’s Vice Magazine Do’s tattooed on their tiny hipster penis and then subsequently lasered off and replaced at press time.

Anyway, I saw this one kid who decided to taint my neighborhood with his homogeneous individuality and he was wearing a t-shirt with the phrase, “Waldorf School,” in silly little yellow letters over a rainbow. Seriously.

Which suddenly explained the whole thing to me. Every hipster went to a fucking Waldorf school. My best friend went to a Waldorf school, they’re like hipster Hitler Youth summer camps. You learn German at age two, dip beeswax candles at age 3 and then learn interpretive dance K through fucking 12.

Every Waldorf kid I knew as a youth has lived for at least five weeks in Williamsburg. Coincidence? I think not.

Mystery SOLVED.

« Previous Page

Blog at WordPress.com.