Miss(ed) Manners

June 27, 2007


Filed under: Humor,Random,Subway — missedmanners @ 12:38 pm

Yesterday I was riding home on J and came to an epiphany. My natural male urges have become directly effected by my finely honed sense of correct public etiquette.

Let me explain, and by explain I mean start off with a mildly erotic, almost film noir description of the scene that I found myself in.

The city was hot that day, my friends. Like the ass of a black mule grazing in Texas under a hole in the ozone. At each stop the waiting crowd would elbow their way into a forceful exhaust of freon laced air and breathe a sigh of no longer constipated relief. There were hard nipples all over the place. Hard, happy nipples.

I hadn’t seen nipples that happy since battery clamp day at Shea Stadium.

At Delancey and Essex they strolled into my car. Three little women decked out in bikini tops and lilliputian patches of denim that possibly could have been described as skirts. It was doubtful that their combined age would have qualified them for AARP benefits, but that fact didn’t seem to bother the rest of the formerly sweaty, now sticky and soon to be hot again male population of the subway car.

They had those kind of bodies that make you think of bizarre euphemisms for erections. Pitching a tent, raising the flag, passing the reflex test at the love doctor. Stomachs exposed and flatter than Iowa after Tornado season, though I doubt anyone spent much time staring there. Racks to match, pants-hams round like soccer balls and sun-kissed, freckled cheeks were accompanied by the train lurch enhanced jiggle factor. Added to that a pair of lower back tattoos and every guy was hoping for a filming of Brooklyn Girls Gone Wild to break out over the bridge.

But then they started TALKING.



Good LORD were they fucking LOUD.

They were speaking in that rapid fire machine gun paced verbal diarrhea hose out the mouth style that only either the energy of being college aged and unburdened by the crippling weight of life or three massive lines of crystal meth can bring.

Even worse was that they spread out when they came into the train to maximize their overt volume abuse. One girl sat, one leaned against a door and the other wrapped herself around the hand-pole in such a way that it was impossible to think of anything BUT a stripper. But when she started blabbering on about the beach, some kid named Anthony and getting drunk on wine coolers all I could see was a 75 year old gossip hag (who was still in the skirt/bikini combo I might add, it was not cool).

They talked so haphazardly you could actually hear spelling errors.

Casual glances around the car might have, another quieter time, elicited the kind of knowing glance from another guy that symbolized that little male bond of checking out the same hot lady. This time the only thing being passed around were rolled eyes.

When they finally exited the train, no one followed them walking away as is the creepy male tradition. Instead, there was a collective sigh of relief. The moral of this story?

Wear headphones at all times and make sure your iPod is fully charged. At least then you can imagine that someone who’s loud and hot is singing back up to your favorite band.

April 27, 2007

Ooof Friday

Filed under: Hotness,Silly,Subway — missedmanners @ 1:15 pm


I’ve got the kind of hangover that makes you religious.

For some reason someone wanted me to DJ at a party again last night. Why people keep asking me to do this is beyond me, but hey, I’m never one to deny anyone their weekly dose of Dave. Played some real classics, among them:

Pat Benetar, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”

Billy Ocean, “Get Out of My Dreams and Into My Car”

Stacy Q, “Two of Hearts”

Gloria Estefan, “1, 2, 3”

Hehehe, it all went over very well. I of course didn’t mix a single thing, was just pressing play repeatedly as per usual. The whole affair has left me with a certain sense of invincibility that only the high of having panties thrown at you can.

Anyway, I also wanted to relate a great story that happened to me yesterday.

As I was on the way to meet up with some friends for a few drinks before heading out, I found myself on the R train, going from Rector Street to Canal. The car that pulled up in front of me was fairly empty and I grabbed a seat and took a quick look around.

As any man can tell you, the first thing you do upon getting into a subway car is you instantly find the most attractive woman present. This isn’t done for any sort of leering purpose, in general, it’s really more an instinct than anything else. Most times your mental catalog is quick in its referencing. A spunky looking hipster who’s showing just enough hip bone to tickle your penis’s fancy is the obvious choice over a beleaguered ancient Chinese lady carrying eight bags of odd smelling groceries. The “Subway” effect can also backfire. Say, for example, that it’s 4am and it’s either that old lady or a crazy crackhead broad with one shoe… your mind will inevitably fill with the worst kind of images.

I’m going to get into this in a little more detail at a later date. For now, if you’re a woman, just be happy that you can force the issue of sex to the sidelines of your head for at least a few minutes. If you’re a man, then you know how annoying then you know what I’m talking about.

Back to the subway car. I take my look around and notice that there are only two women on the car… and they’re both reaaallly hot. Then I look around some more, there were about five guys and they were all pretty damn attractive. Everyone on the car was really good looking.

This never, EVER happens. If you live in New York or have ever rode on the subway, you will undoubtedly agree with me. There is always at least one hideously ugly motherfucker just chilling out in a corner. People talk a lot about the great melting pot that is New York, but they never mention that it’s also a stew of aesthetic variety. Sure we’ve got models, square jawed power brokers and celebrities… but we’ve also got pasty faced, mouth breathing, waddling tubs of lard like the rest of the country. We’ve actually got more of them here per square foot than anywhere else in the country. They’re everywhere.

I was in complete awe of the untarnished physical beauty around me. I don’t think anyone else noticed, and we rode on into the night in silence. As we pulled in to the City Hall stop, I just assumed that someone would get on and completely ruin my little zen garden of hotness. But nay! The only person to get on our car was this gigantic studly black dude in a suit.

I looked around some more and noticed that not only was everyone gorgeous, but we were also a multi-culti environment. There were like three white guys, one Asian guy, one of the girls was Latina, the other was a blonde, and now our hirstute African American friend.

I was in a living Benetton advert.

I will cherish that moment as the best cast of random subway characters of all time. Much love.

September 22, 2006

Miss(ed) Manners: Chit for Chat

Filed under: Column,Funny,Humor,Loud Talkers,Manners,Personal,Ramblings,Subway,Why? — missedmanners @ 12:25 pm

Say you’re a regular guy with a lot on your mind. You’ve got all these great ideas bouncing around inside that skull of yours and you just want to get them out. Your friends don’t really have the time to listen, everyone you know is just too busy… so where do you go to just get it all off your chest?

A rush hour subway car filled with people, right?

Makes sense I guess, train passengers are kind of a captive audience. They can’t really leave, not until their stop, and getting up and moving just because you’re talking, well, I mean, that’s kind of rude.

This basically outlines the situation I witnessed this morning on my way into the office. I’d gotten on the J, as usual and was leaning against the door as we rumbled towards the Williamsburg Bridge. Everything seemed really normal. People were their usual groggy, morning selves. Those sitting seemed to be meditating and reciting the popular mantra, “Friiiiiiiiiidaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, niiiiiiinnne houuuuurrrrs to goooooooooooo.”

But something was different. Right in front of me I noticed some excited movement, hands flashing, head shaking, lips wagging, that sort of thing. This guy was talking very loudly at some poor little girl who seemed to be holding a newspaper.

I had my headphones on so I was missing the gist of the conversation. It was obviously one sided, so at first I assumed this guy was throwing some game, as the girl was definitely attractive by any means of the word. Reluctantly, I turned off my Goo Goo Dolls Greatest Hits Megamix and focused in on the exchange.

Calling it an exchange would really be incorrect. From what I gathered the guy, or Chat Stu as I began to refer to him in my head, had seen a headline regarding Iran’s nuclear program in the lady’s, or Extremely Uncomfortable Girl’s (EUGene), Daily News. This prompted him to launch into a seamless logorrheic tirade, extolling his opinions on a number of subjects.

It wasn’t even like Chat Stu was talking just to EUGene. Granted, he was sitting right next to her and his mouth was just two or three inches from her eye, no, he was shouting loud enough for the entire car to hear. Poor EUGene just sat there, smiling politely, trying her best to make every possible non-verbal attempt to let him know that she just wanted to get back to reading her paper.

Now, when I said seamless and logorrheic, I meant it. You know how there are people out there who will just talk and talk and talk about nothing at all until you literally look them in the face and say, “if you do not stop talking right now I will take the laces out of my shoes, ram them down your throat and then fashion a crude noose out the laces and hang you from a telephone wire by your toes and tell the local kids there’s a pinata outside full of useless thoughts.”

The only way to deal with people like this is you have to wait for a break in their mindless jibber jabber. Most often, this is when they pause for breath. That split second when their mind says, “oh yeah, I need to stop spewing completely inane information so that I can replenish my oxygen supply, then I can get right back to boring the fuck out this person in front of me.”

Well, Chat Stu didn’t breathe. I watched him for somewhere around twenty minutes and over six stops and not one pause. It reminded me of that guy in the movie, The Sting, who was reading the results off the high speed telegram machine, no pauses, no fear, no mercy.

All in all the behavior seemed so crazy, but Stu didn’t look or sound nuts at all. He was dressed fairly well, not fancy, but definitely not in hobo-gear. He was clean and articulate, just looked like a regular guy on his way to work. The whole thing was mesmerizing, especially his points of view.

There was so much filler in between his salient points that it was hard to pick out exactly what Stu was trying to say. He had started off with the nuclear situation in Iran but within a few minutes had strayed all over the political, social and sexual world.

Some memorable Chat Stu quotes:

“I’m not a black man, white man, rich man, poor man, right man, left man, up man, down man… I’m an Original Man, see.”

“Being gay is a choice, a lifestyle choice you make, like being a crack head, you can choose to be a crack head, you choose to be gay, you ain’t born a crack head.”

“The World Trade Center was bombed! Did you know they took out all the bomb sniffing dogs six days before 9/11? At the beginning of September there were no dogs allowed in the World Trade Center.” (This was the longest portion of his lecture, involving technical details of “bombs ‘n shit,” “melted steel ‘n shit” and “physics stuff.”)

“A man has got to be able to protect his family. If you don’t protect your family, you’re not a man, I don’t have a family, because I’m an Original Man, see.”

As we neared his stop at Chambers Street he began wrapping things up. He was talking to everyone now, not just EUGene, but anyone who would listen. I had taken a seat right across from him. As he got up to exit the car he began politely urging us to think about everything he said.

I had been thinking about what he was saying and all in all, none of it was real crazy-person talk. It was all a little misguided, sure, but they were just his opinions, a fact he kept mentioning, almost as much as his “Original Man” Theory.

When the doors shut there were about six of us who’d been in direct ear shot of Chat Stu and we all started to giggle. A girl next to me said, “I’m all for conversations, but someone needs to tell him, not on the train and NOT this early!”

“He certainly had a lot on his mind!” Said the woman to EUGene’s left.

EUGene was blushing furiously, “I just wanted to read my paper, I haven’t even made it to the local section yet.”

Two seats down an older man said, “Have you ever thought of reading People Magazine?” Meaning celebrity gossip is not nearly as inflammatory.

We all laughed.

There were only two stops left and we spent them trading light jokes and wondering what was the most polite way to deal with someone who forces you into a one sided conversation like that. How do tell someone you’d rather just sit in quiet contemplating the day ahead?

We all broke off to head to our jobs and the girl sitting next to me said, “Have a nice day.” With a smile I replied, “You too.” The warmth and genuineness of the exchange made me all smiles, but it was also confusing. Here we’d had a conversation, not the usual awkward, “Hey whatcha been up to?” random subway encounter mushmouth conversation, but a real friendly talk… about how you just don’t feel like talking in the morning.

If it hadn’t been for Stu getting all loud and opinionated we’d never have had that shared moment, however brief. The confusion didn’t stop me from smiling all the way to work, or even now.

I guess the moral of the story is that no matter how rude, inconsiderate, loud, bigoted or annoying someone can be, you can still bond with strangers and have a good time making fun of that person once with they and their whacko-loco speak are a safe distance away.

September 15, 2006

Miss(ed) Manners: Spaced Out

Filed under: Column,Funny,Humor,Personal,Ramblings,Subway — missedmanners @ 11:45 am

Personal space, the final frontier.

This is the journey of Dave, whose mission is to boldly sit equidistant from all those around him. To seek out a comfortable and respectable personal space without having to glare at the guy who smells like stale milk just to his right who refuses to move even though there’s no one else on the train and all it would take is just a shift of his fat little legs to move six inches away so that we’re not dry humping thighs every time the train goes over a new section of track, I’m stuck against the arm guard with no where to go but into your lap with my elbow, MOVE IT, JEEEZ.

That was last night, on the subway. I was sitting amongst many tired peons, all wanting to get home. It was just an hour or two past peak time and I was lucky enough to get a seat. Over the bridge we went and at the first stop almost everyone got off the train.

Right, so we’ve gone from train full of seated passengers to train with five or six passengers. What do you do? What DO you do?

The answer my friends is not blowing in the wind, but found in the basic principles of excited particles, which I guess technically could be blowing in the wind. The details are pretty technical and really don’t understand them, but basically when particles are in an excited state they bounce around to make full use of their particular enviroment.

So when you have about forty say, human-sized particles in a say, train-sized enviroment, they’re going be distributed evenly. But when you remove thirty of these human-sized particles a lot of space opens up and then remaining human-sized particles ought to bounce around (or slide their fat asses on the seats) to evenly distribute themselves in the now free space.

I got a C in physics.

Needless to say that when Mr. Milk Dud didn’t slide away from me I was in an excited state. I made all the huffing, loud exhales and grumpy shifting that’s necessary for just such a situation. Maybe he was confused and thought we were sharing a covalent bond or something. Three stops later I was off the train and he was in the same spot.

Behavior like this is unacceptable and highly un-American and let me tell you why. People from Europe like to tout one of the big differences between them and us as being the personal space issue. They just don’t seem to care if someone sits down next to them on an empty train and throws an unshaved leg in their lap. They’re just that much more evolved than we are, in their eyes I guess they think they’re being cosmopolitan.

In my eyes it’s total fucking bullshit. Europe is overcrowded. The same people have been living in postage stamp sized countries for a thousand years. Sure you don’t mind sharing a table with a stranger, we’re all human right? Garbage, you don’t mind sharing a table because there are three of them in the sub-basement cafe and they’re the size of candlesticks.

Here in America we’ve got space. We’ve made a national history out of forcing indingenous people off of their space just so we could NOT use it. When the pioneers saw smoke from neighbor’s chimney four miles away it was time to move. We love cars where EVERYone has a captain’s seat. We don’t have stores, we have SUPER centers. We’re a nation built on spreading our legs like the mayonnaise we so love.

Most practioners of American Etiquette will tell you that the optimal personal comfort zone is three feet. Why three feet? Because that’s the average length of a human arm or leg. A good test to see if you’re comfortable? Randomly throw out a limb violently in any direction, if you hit someone in the teeth, then you’re not really at ease, and that person shouldn’t have been there.

To me the whole personal space thing is very much an issue of respect. As in, “I respect you enough that I want you to be able to spread out and display your groin region for all to see.” That’s comfort and respect.

If someone doesn’t do the butt slide away from me when a space opens up, that doesn’t say to me, “well Dave, you finally showered, you must be smelling good today and this person obviously wants to bask in your radiant cleanliness.”

Nope, instead I’m thinking this person doesn’t respect American values of expansion, gratuitous waste of personal resources and comfort at the cost of conservation. So take a hike, Commie, these legs were made for spreading and that’s just what they’re going to do.

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