Comuterism.
So I took a job in Seattle. And I live in the shitty run down commuter town known as Bremerton. What this means to you my faithful reader is that I am going to share some observances from my trip every day.
If you commute on public transportation, you know that you see the same people everyday. But you never talk to them. So I have made up little back stories to make all the people who stand out in my mind fit in.
Here is the disclaimer.... This is my views and my views only. If you aren't down with referencing knife fights with cripples, calling women Chicks, and occational jabs at the mentally ill. You may want to skip this blog. If you think observations and surlyness are the key to humor, then read on. But you have been warned.
Enjoy.
The Old School Commuter: Man I hate this guy, I don't give a flying donkey show how long you have been commuting. I don't give a fecal spray how many times you have been sitting in this spot. You can't call dibs on the Ferry. If you want it so bad, pick up your cane and run for it. I'm fat, I don't run, I just vaugely meander towards a place to park my ass. And if your gimp can't hang with my Gansta stroll, that ain't my problem. Now if you didn't come off like a hemroid laden asshat, then Maybe I would have moved. But no you had to come up on me about this is your territory and shit. I don't hang that way. Laws of the Wild Motha trucka!!! I ain't afraid to cut a bitch to keep my ass sitting down. You wanna go Gimpy McFlannelandKhakis? You will Rue the day you stepped to me. I will cut you like the line at sizzler. Then after I whoop your ass Survival of the Fattest style, I will bust out and piss all over your face there fore claiming everything you own as mine. And then you will cry. And there is nothing worse than watching a lonely old man sobbing into his skinny double half caff latte with extra foam.
Mr Yellow Jacket: This is an abnormally shaped individual that fits the description Dane Cook gives about the "Hey Thanks for the Candy" guy. I work in IT, so abnormally shaped people the thing I notice every day about Mr. Yellow Jacket is his bright onoxious Yellow Jacket that he sports with a matching bright red hat. Because of his abnormal Size and his obvious fashion sense, I think that he use to be a professional masked wrestler who got kicked out of the ring after a scandal involving the pleasuring of sheep.
The stalker: This is my favorite of all the commuters I don't like. A couple weeks ago this obnoxiously skinny chick sits on the ferry staring at me. And then follows me roughly to where I parked my car. She wasn't stalking me, she parked like four spots away from my Pimpin Festiva. So, as I get into my car, she is like "Hey" and I turn around figuring she is going to be like "You dropped something" or "Can I bum a smoke" but instead she wows me with a "Hey are you that guy who sings The Darkness." And Im like "Pardon?" And she goes "At OUr Place in Silverdale, You sing the Darkness" And Im Like "I have been known to get a little Tipsy and sing "I Believe in a thing called Love". And she goes. "Cool see you wednesday" and hops into her toyata and leaves me wondering if I have ever seen her before. To my knowledge I never did. Ever. Not once. Not in the bar, not near my car, Not on the Ferry, Not Driving down Perry. I have not laid eyes on skinny fan. I have not could not Sam I am... So anyway... about four weeks or so go by , I am on the boat and she walks up to me in all her Heroin ciche glory and says "Hey I didn't see you on wednesday". This is like almost a month after the garage episode and I never saw her at all in that time. So I tell her "I had the shits" and she chuckles and says "See you wednesday" and goes back to wherever the imaginary go to rest. So wednesday comes around and I hook up with the usual band of Reprobates and I have a couple pepsi's and stuff awaiting annoying freaky stalker fan. And you know who walks in the door?
Not her. I am scared... I think she is an ghost trying to get me to atone for me Murdering that song. murdering is not the right word for what I do to the Darkness. I would say, I butcher it into tiny pieces, have sex with the corpse of "I belive in a thing called love" using my own scat as lube. Then I skin it, eat the meaty center of it and wear the hide as a mask as I look into the mirror and talk about how I would Fuck myself... Hard.. Anyway moving on.
Hot psuedo Goth: There is this chick who is awesome to look at. She always dresses in black neck to toe, always in skirts always with her hands gloved. The only thing that makes her not Creepy goth is her white hair. Like white white. like white to the whitest power. I check her out everyday and am captivated by her grace and poise. But she must be either an Albino with contacts or maybe she is the last line of a vampiric super race bent on global domination through alluring victims with suble hotness and then turning them into an army of undead. Thats why I don't talk to her. I like my blood where it is and already serve a beautiful woman with blind obediance, shit Im almost married.
The Crazy Hot Chick: Now by this I don't mean she is "Crazy Hot" I mean she is mildly attractive, but completely bat shit crazy. You see, I'll see her checking me out when I am waiting to leave the ferry. And being a dude, I will smile back at her until I realize that she isn't smiling at me, she is smiling at her reflection in the window infront of me. You see she paces around looking into anything shiny and she starts talking quietly, So I figure maybe she is a puplic speaker or an actress and she is always memorizing her lines.... Its either that or she is nuckin futz.
The Luggage lady: YOU FUCKIN COW I HATE YOU!!! You know who you are. You with your stylish matching purse, Laptop bag, backpack and wheel luggage. You deserve to get kicked and ran into an bumped and cussed at when your 84 cubic inch bag rolls over my leopard spotted converse. I simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't cut it, but it would be a step in the right direction instead of the casual "oops smile" when you slam into my awesomeness. I mean Where the fuck are you going that you need to bring your entire damn wardrobe with you everyday? I mean WTF? Are the bags full of trained pixies that do your magic number crunching for you so you don't actually have to work? If so, you might want to cut air holes in that shit so they can breath. Also while your at it, add some extra padding because next time I ain't slowing down for your pack mule ass. Im comin through like an angry fat guy on his way to the buffet line. (Not like the apathetic fat guy on his way to work like normal) If your luggage invades my space again, so fuckin help me, I will scream like Xena and toss your shit in the garbage can. And if I find out for certain that you are a pixie abuser I will go all Viva La Revelution up on your sea chest to free the cute little imps from your evil clutches! Down with the man. Power to the people, burning bras and all that. You have been warned!!!
Mrs Wheel Chair Face: This is the hardest one for me to complain about. But she is this nice lady who happens to be in a wheel chair. That being said, she is a hipocrite. She is all "treat us handy capped people like people" and they "just want to be equal" But when you cut infront of her because you have to drop a duece in the ferry terminal bathroom, she goes apeshart. Because she has special rights to get on and off the ferry before me. So I realize she doens't want to be equal, she wants to be better. And she can't be better than me until she bests me in combat. Laws of the Wild mutha trucka. You go for my throat, you get my territory. My territory being of course my spot in line. You choose the place and time and I will destroy you!
That is all I can think of now. And besides, calling chicks crazy and threatening the handicapible is I think a good ending note.
~Rev
If you commute on public transportation, you know that you see the same people everyday. But you never talk to them. So I have made up little back stories to make all the people who stand out in my mind fit in.
Here is the disclaimer.... This is my views and my views only. If you aren't down with referencing knife fights with cripples, calling women Chicks, and occational jabs at the mentally ill. You may want to skip this blog. If you think observations and surlyness are the key to humor, then read on. But you have been warned.
Enjoy.
The Old School Commuter: Man I hate this guy, I don't give a flying donkey show how long you have been commuting. I don't give a fecal spray how many times you have been sitting in this spot. You can't call dibs on the Ferry. If you want it so bad, pick up your cane and run for it. I'm fat, I don't run, I just vaugely meander towards a place to park my ass. And if your gimp can't hang with my Gansta stroll, that ain't my problem. Now if you didn't come off like a hemroid laden asshat, then Maybe I would have moved. But no you had to come up on me about this is your territory and shit. I don't hang that way. Laws of the Wild Motha trucka!!! I ain't afraid to cut a bitch to keep my ass sitting down. You wanna go Gimpy McFlannelandKhakis? You will Rue the day you stepped to me. I will cut you like the line at sizzler. Then after I whoop your ass Survival of the Fattest style, I will bust out and piss all over your face there fore claiming everything you own as mine. And then you will cry. And there is nothing worse than watching a lonely old man sobbing into his skinny double half caff latte with extra foam.
Mr Yellow Jacket: This is an abnormally shaped individual that fits the description Dane Cook gives about the "Hey Thanks for the Candy" guy. I work in IT, so abnormally shaped people the thing I notice every day about Mr. Yellow Jacket is his bright onoxious Yellow Jacket that he sports with a matching bright red hat. Because of his abnormal Size and his obvious fashion sense, I think that he use to be a professional masked wrestler who got kicked out of the ring after a scandal involving the pleasuring of sheep.
The stalker: This is my favorite of all the commuters I don't like. A couple weeks ago this obnoxiously skinny chick sits on the ferry staring at me. And then follows me roughly to where I parked my car. She wasn't stalking me, she parked like four spots away from my Pimpin Festiva. So, as I get into my car, she is like "Hey" and I turn around figuring she is going to be like "You dropped something" or "Can I bum a smoke" but instead she wows me with a "Hey are you that guy who sings The Darkness." And Im like "Pardon?" And she goes "At OUr Place in Silverdale, You sing the Darkness" And Im Like "I have been known to get a little Tipsy and sing "I Believe in a thing called Love". And she goes. "Cool see you wednesday" and hops into her toyata and leaves me wondering if I have ever seen her before. To my knowledge I never did. Ever. Not once. Not in the bar, not near my car, Not on the Ferry, Not Driving down Perry. I have not laid eyes on skinny fan. I have not could not Sam I am... So anyway... about four weeks or so go by , I am on the boat and she walks up to me in all her Heroin ciche glory and says "Hey I didn't see you on wednesday". This is like almost a month after the garage episode and I never saw her at all in that time. So I tell her "I had the shits" and she chuckles and says "See you wednesday" and goes back to wherever the imaginary go to rest. So wednesday comes around and I hook up with the usual band of Reprobates and I have a couple pepsi's and stuff awaiting annoying freaky stalker fan. And you know who walks in the door?
Not her. I am scared... I think she is an ghost trying to get me to atone for me Murdering that song. murdering is not the right word for what I do to the Darkness. I would say, I butcher it into tiny pieces, have sex with the corpse of "I belive in a thing called love" using my own scat as lube. Then I skin it, eat the meaty center of it and wear the hide as a mask as I look into the mirror and talk about how I would Fuck myself... Hard.. Anyway moving on.
Hot psuedo Goth: There is this chick who is awesome to look at. She always dresses in black neck to toe, always in skirts always with her hands gloved. The only thing that makes her not Creepy goth is her white hair. Like white white. like white to the whitest power. I check her out everyday and am captivated by her grace and poise. But she must be either an Albino with contacts or maybe she is the last line of a vampiric super race bent on global domination through alluring victims with suble hotness and then turning them into an army of undead. Thats why I don't talk to her. I like my blood where it is and already serve a beautiful woman with blind obediance, shit Im almost married.
The Crazy Hot Chick: Now by this I don't mean she is "Crazy Hot" I mean she is mildly attractive, but completely bat shit crazy. You see, I'll see her checking me out when I am waiting to leave the ferry. And being a dude, I will smile back at her until I realize that she isn't smiling at me, she is smiling at her reflection in the window infront of me. You see she paces around looking into anything shiny and she starts talking quietly, So I figure maybe she is a puplic speaker or an actress and she is always memorizing her lines.... Its either that or she is nuckin futz.
The Luggage lady: YOU FUCKIN COW I HATE YOU!!! You know who you are. You with your stylish matching purse, Laptop bag, backpack and wheel luggage. You deserve to get kicked and ran into an bumped and cussed at when your 84 cubic inch bag rolls over my leopard spotted converse. I simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't cut it, but it would be a step in the right direction instead of the casual "oops smile" when you slam into my awesomeness. I mean Where the fuck are you going that you need to bring your entire damn wardrobe with you everyday? I mean WTF? Are the bags full of trained pixies that do your magic number crunching for you so you don't actually have to work? If so, you might want to cut air holes in that shit so they can breath. Also while your at it, add some extra padding because next time I ain't slowing down for your pack mule ass. Im comin through like an angry fat guy on his way to the buffet line. (Not like the apathetic fat guy on his way to work like normal) If your luggage invades my space again, so fuckin help me, I will scream like Xena and toss your shit in the garbage can. And if I find out for certain that you are a pixie abuser I will go all Viva La Revelution up on your sea chest to free the cute little imps from your evil clutches! Down with the man. Power to the people, burning bras and all that. You have been warned!!!
Mrs Wheel Chair Face: This is the hardest one for me to complain about. But she is this nice lady who happens to be in a wheel chair. That being said, she is a hipocrite. She is all "treat us handy capped people like people" and they "just want to be equal" But when you cut infront of her because you have to drop a duece in the ferry terminal bathroom, she goes apeshart. Because she has special rights to get on and off the ferry before me. So I realize she doens't want to be equal, she wants to be better. And she can't be better than me until she bests me in combat. Laws of the Wild mutha trucka. You go for my throat, you get my territory. My territory being of course my spot in line. You choose the place and time and I will destroy you!
That is all I can think of now. And besides, calling chicks crazy and threatening the handicapible is I think a good ending note.
~Rev
posted by gfhjk at 10:00 AM
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