Are you kidding broken subway card holder?

I know I have been gone for a while. But if you hadn't realized blogging about things that piss me off in New York City isn't my day job. Plus, I havn't been here for most of the month so that's my excuse. Sorry. (Actually I'm not. But after acouple of you have reached out to me for a new post I figure appologizing would make you feel better about yourself. Because really, what else have you got going for you?)

There are very few good surprises that happen when living in New York City. Don't get me wrong, there are surprises. Like when you turn the corner and a homeless person starts peeing on your shoe. Or when you go out to lunch and a make your own salad costs $15. Or when you sign the $2500 per month lease for a 450 sq. ft. apartment that anywhere else in the country would cost $500. All unexpected, yet I would hardly classify them as good. But there still are some good suprises that come out of living in the city. And one of the best one is when I am walking down the stairs to the subway station and the train is just pulling up. When I see that blur of silver rush by and I know that I'm not going to have to wait, I have such a good feeling that I think nothing can upset me. I forget about my absurd rent, my fortune costing lunch that had made me gassy, and even my bum-pee soaked sneaker because at that moment I really know what the Starland Vocal Band was singing about in their song "Afternoon Delight"; getting to the subway station as the train's arriving. But all this jubilation comes crashing to a hault because as I go to the one open turnstile onto the platform I get stuck behind you. Are you kidding broken subway card holder? I know this isn't your first time using your broken card because the thing looks more worn out then R. Kelly's old Disney Channel VHS tapes. And there's a pretty good chance that if the machine didn't read the 5th swipe, the 15th isn't going to register either. I say something under my breath loud enough for you to hear. I breath heavy so that you know I am angrily waiting. But you still keep on going at it like a fat kid and a bucket of KFC. And the most frustrating part about it is that you are a successful business(wo)man. (Or at least you dress like one.) You can raise revenue, and create financial forecasts but when it comes to sliding a piece of plastic through a card reader to get on the subway, it looks like you should be riding in the short car. So thank you broken subway card holder, you killed the joy in my subway riding experience. Murderer.

Are you kidding douche bag in the club?

Maybe it's because I was an accounting major in college. Maybe it's because I'm not from the east coast. Or maybe it's because my head's not so far up my ass that I think spending $300 on a bottle of alcohol automatically gets me on the cool bus. Are you kidding douche bag in the club? Let's do the math. I go to the liquor store and buy my bottle of Grey Goose for $30. You go to the club and get yours for $300. Sure mine does not come with sliced limes and lemons, cranberry juice, tonic water, and a waitress with questionable morals, but I hardly think all that's worth $270 (that excludes the tip for said waitress). You stand there sipping your drink, listening to the music that's playing too loud, acting like you own the place. But one would think that if you can afford to pay 100 times the retail price of alcohol, you could afford to at least hire friends of the opposite sex. So why is it that every time you stand up to look over the crowd you end up doing that awkward head bobbing and swaying combination, that if you are drunk enough I guess could be mistaken as dancing? Believe me the music's not that good. And don't kid yourself. All the girls that actually do come up to you aren't there for your stellar personality. They're using you for your alcohol like Bill Clinton uses interns. Don't you realize that drinking and spending money isn't the key to happiness unless you are Eddie Murphy. In 1985 all he wanted to do is "Party All the Time" and then he went on to be successful. So unless you've voiced a donkey or impregnated a Spice Girl, douche bag in the club, maybe you should keep your money and stay home.

Are you kidding Spoiled Attractive Lady on the Bus?

This is another guest post. I should be able to write one for tomorrow. As you saw from Monday's post I have been traveling and haven't been able to post as frequently this week. Don't cry about it. Enjoy this one.

Let’s face it, women are spoiled...especially the attractive ones. Attractive women can get pretty much whatever they want, and they know it. When I see a good looking woman coming into a store after me I wait there to hold the door open in the rain with no umbrella. When there is an attractive woman waiting on my table I tip more than I should. When an attractive woman is talking to me at the bar and I know that it is only because she wants me to buy her a drink I buy her that drink. And when there is an attractive woman on the corner of the street asking me if I have 5 minutes for the children I always say “Of course I do, the children are our future” even though the starving children of Djibouti are not in the top 10,000 of things that worry me when I wake up in the morning. There are some instances, however, that simply cross the line. One of these line crossing events happened to me this morning. As I was sitting on the bus with my iPod doing my morning crossword puzzle, I notice a very attractive woman somewhere between the ages of 27-35 standing in front of me, looking at me, and moving her lips. I took my iPod off and asked if she was talking to me, to which she replies “Can I sit here?” I looked around noticing there were no seats available on the bus, but also watched her walk onto the bus without a limp and she was obviously not pregnant given the fact that her surgically enhanced funbags were daring me to see if they made a noise when squeezed. When I finally realized that she did not want to sit on my lap and talk about the first thing that popped up, I replied that I was sorry but I was busy doing the crossword and needed to sit to do that. Are you kidding spoiled attractive lady on the bus? I wake up earlier every morning because experience has taught me that if you get to the bus stop before 7:40 am you can get a seat on the bus, thus enabling me to do my crossword puzzle. Get to the bus stop after 7:40 and the rush hour crowd forces you to stand for your commute with all the peons and blue collar people. I have 2 female bosses that I report to. I have seen my company’s performance goals and know that part of my bonus hinges on a certain percentage of employees in my department being female and “persons of color”. Aside from the obvious questioning of whether or not “persons of color” is an appropriate term after the Civil Rights Movement, I feel like I have given enough of myself to attractive women over the years and this was one battle that I simply refused to lose. I immediately got quite angry and had to calm myself by thinking what another great American would do…and I am pretty sure that I made a choice that would make Al Bundy proud. Al would never let Peg sit in his seat on the couch, even if she promised never to bring Marcy D’Arcy over to the house again. Al would never get up off his seat on the couch even if Kelly was having her friends over for the Hawaiian Tropic Video Shoot and needed to sit on that very couch. I am pretty sure Al Bundy would feel the exact same way I or any other rational American that is not a spoiled attractive woman would feel: If a woman can be my boss, take half my assets for doing nothing more than simply fulfilling my manly needs, and run for the President on the United States, then she can damn sure stand her ass up on the bus.

Are you kidding American Airlines?

I had to fly out of that little slice of hell better known as Laguardia early Saturday morning. I went out the night before so I wasn't in the best of moods when I woke up at 6:30am to grab a cab. I should have known that it was going to be one of those days when the cab driver turned to me and asked for cash to pay the toll at the tunnel. I asked if he had the EZ Pass (little box in the car that charges you automatically) and if he could just throw it on there I would pay him back at the end when I used my credit card to pay for the rest of the toll. Well you would have thought I asked him if it was alright to take a crap in the back seat by the way he responded no, so reluctantly I gave him the 5 bucks. (It wasn't the new five. How stupid do those look? Someone at the Treasury Department really screwed the pooch on that one. Poor Abe Lincoln.) Anyways, after I went through security, I checked at the gate to make sure the 9 am flight was on time. The representative sweetly responded the plane was running about 20 minutes late. 20 minutes isn't bad for Laguardia, so I considered myself lucky. Until that same representative went to the ticket podium. She looked like she was getting ready to take tickets for boarding, but American Airlines had other plans. She got on the loud speaker and said in her sweetest voice that the flight had been canceled due to low visibility. Are you kidding American Airlines? When I get up to go to the bathroom at night I have low visibility but I somehow manage to hit the bowl. (Most of the time. Sometimes the tiles get a little. Who knew tiles were into that sort of thing? Kinky.) And that's without a copilot or computer assistance. The fog must have really cleared up by 9:30 because the Delta flight left for Columbus on time. Also, if the plane was running 20 minutes late wouldn't that mean that it was en route when I originally asked about the flight? Maybe the show Lost really could happen between the Midwest and the East Coast. Or maybe that spawn of Satan you employed to stand behind the counter lied to me. Don't worry there is a silver lining to the story. I talked one of your nicer employees into giving me a meal ticket worth $10. (And in all seriousness I really did appreciate it. But that doesn't make for a funny story.) But if you allocate that over the 6 extra hours I was imprisoned at the airport it works out to $1.67 an hour. Now I know what the kids in sweat shops feel like and I didn't even have to make any shoes. Thanks for the life lesson American Airlines. But can you do me a favor? Instead of teaching me invaluable lessons or giving me experiences that I will look back one day and laugh at, how about you just get your flights off on time.

Are you kidding slow driver in the left hand lane?

NOTE: This was written by someone other than myself. Apparently people besides me get pissed off at stupid things. Who knew? If something pisses you off and you want to see it on here email areyoukiddingnyc@gmail.com

So I was driving back home from school on the freeway expecting a smooth ride. But instead I'm stuck behind you. Are you kidding me slow drivers in the left hand lane? 55 mph. Really? You're like a kidney stone when I'm trying to pee. I know you aren't a sixteen year old student driver anymore, I can see your handicap tag hanging from your mirror as I angrily stare at the back of your 1995 Volkswagen Passat. (Maybe it's time for an upgrade.) But I assume that over the last fifty years or so you would have perhaps noticed that slower traffic goes into the right or middle lane. This isn't some new rule like not looking at internet porn on work computers. Just move over. It's not that hard. You would think the flurry of cars whizzing past you would have been a sign. "Just go around me. I'm not hurting anyone" you say? But the fact of the matter is you are disrupting my drive, and that slow driver in the left hand lane hurts. Besides if I felt like passing someone on the right I'll go for a jog on the indoor track and run past the fat people doing their weekly half-mile. (Sure the half mile helps. But not eating a box of Thin Mints in a single sitting might help too. I know they're good. But a whole box?) And what about when you're driving slow in your white Crown Victoria? In case you haven't noticed, your car perfectly resembles a police cruiser. I see the back of your car and slow down. No, it's not funny. I'm going to drive around your block playing the ice cream man song, so every time you run outside and get disappointed you know how I feel. So thank you slow driver in the left hand lane, you and the constant need to pee every time I just passed an exit, ruined my drive home.