Are you kidding Princess Toadstool?

If a guy goes through the trouble of traveling (let alone rescuing) to see a girl he's romantically interested in, that girl should probably reward him with gifts. Gifts can entail money, or things you can buy, or things you can't buy that I'm not at liberty to discuss. (If I did and you were reading it at work or your mom saw, you would either be fired or embarrassed, respectively. Get the picture?) But if said guy gets sucked down a sewer pipe with his brother, ends up in another world, travels through eight levels of enemies attacking him, which include underground and water worlds, goes through the hell of seven wrong castles, and fights eight monsters to rescue his romantic interest, one would expect the reward to be pretty hefty. (No, you cheat. Warp zones don't count. Shame on you. Thinking of playing your magic flute during a discussion like this. Disgusting!) But when Mario rescues you all he gets is a kiss? Are you kidding Princess Toadstool? Mario busts his tail to save you (literally in Super Mario Brothers 3) and you show no gratitude. Most girls would throw themselves at their hero, but you sit in your ivory mushroom tower, looking down on everyone, acting like you're better than that. But you're not better, are you Peach? (By the way. If you're going to change your name, why to a fuzzy fruit?) Although you might have above average jumping powers, you're terrible as a kart driver. So much as a graze from Bowser or Donkey Kong and you spin out of control. But the worst trait you have Princess Toadstool, is that you are a home wrecking cheat. What if player 2 saves you before player 1? You give Luigi the same kiss you give Mario. Forget about just cheating on Mario. You cheat on him with his brother? I would tell you that the three of you are a Maury episode waiting to happen, but those usually involve finding out who the father is. And as far as we know, you don't partake in activities that result in offspring, and therein lies the problem. All I can do is hope, Princess Toadstool, that you come to your senses and give Mario the reward he deserves. Or else one of these Nintendo games Mario isn't going to rescue you, and Bowser is going to take you places I can guarantee you will wish you had never been too.

Are you kidding GUTS winner?

I love cable television. There I said it. It's relaxing to watch, I love my DVR, and as soon as they come out with the next cool thing to do with t.v. I'll probably buy and love that too. I will sacrifice an hour or two of sleep to watch my favorite show. Some may disagree with this practice but finding out from someone what happened on your favorite program is probably one of the worst things you can hear from someone (except when on a road trip the person sitting shot gun tells you not to stop anymore. You don't have to ask why because when you look over you see that his crotch, along with your seat, is soaking wet. That's probably worse) And this wasn't a gradual thing either. I grew up loving t.v., and one of my favorite shows to watch was GUTS (do you have them? And I shouldn't have to explain to you the premise of the show. You should know.) Watching the three kids compete at the various events I always told myself that I could do it better; that if I was on the show there was no doubt in my mind that I would take home the piece of the Agro Crag and all of the glory that came along with it. But for some reason or another I never made it to the Guts Arena at Nickelodeon Studios, so I never got the chance. But from 1992 to 1995 there had to be hundreds of winners of the glorious rock. But where are they? Are you kidding GUTS winner? How selfish are you? You hold one of the greatest trophies that could be obtained by a young teen in the early 1990's and yet all of you remain in hiding. I don't want you to sell the piece of Crag (Because I know you won't. Ebay and Craig's List have repeatedly told me so.) I just want to see it in person, maybe take a picture with it. But none of you offer any of us non-GUTS winners the chance. Let's go to Moe for the official results. "Thanks Mike, coming in First place is John "the Douche" Doe in Red for 900 points." I also find it kind of funny that all of you ended up alright in life. Not one first place GUTS winner was driven to sell their piece of the Crag for sex or drugs? What are the chances? Looks like all those statistics they told me in high school health class were bullshit. So if any of of you GUTS winner Agro Crag owners happen to read this, is it too much to ask of you to spill your GUTS?

Are you kidding 3rd floor elevator rider?

Instead of doing my dry cleaning on a perpetual basis I let it pile up behind my bedroom door and take it to be cleaned about every month or two. The whole process is fine except when I have to take the clean clothes back up to my apartment. I usually have to carry the entire load at once, and the metal hangers dig into my hand. But if I'm lucky, I find an empty elevator and the ride goes straight to the 13th floor. This past week I was embarking on the journey back up to my apartment and the door was almost shutting on an empty elevator until you got in. You apologized when you saw me, so I didn't really mind. Until you hit the 3 button. Are you kidding 3rd floor elevator rider? What's wrong with you? You obviously aren't crippled because you walked your dumb ass from the front door into the elevator. And I'm guessing you could use the exercise. I could understand if you were carrying something heavy or had just gone to the grocery store, but all you had with you was that stupid grin across your face. How lazy are you? Even small dogs take the stairs when they can't get into a bed. And the worst part about it is you know what you're doing. You know you live on the third floor. You know you should take the stairs. And yet here you are standing in the elevator. Don't you feel any guilt? You do the same thing every time you walk into the building, and every time you get in that elevator and press that button every other person in there is swearing at you in their head, hoping that you get a glance of the pissed off look they are giving to the back of your head. (By the way the 4th floor is the cut off for people to take the elevator.) Maybe you should switch it up a bit. I know it's a difficult thing to do. But take a look at Doug Funny. At the beginning of every episode he did the exact same thing for four seasons. But eventually he switched up his opening credit routine and now he's a better person because of it. (Sure he switched it when ABC bought the show to put it on One Saturday Morning but that's besides the point.) Be like Doug 3rd floor elevator rider. Take the stairs.

Are you kidding person who puts single ply toilet paper in their bathroom?

There are very few places in this world where I can sit down and not be bothered. Where no one is going to interrupt me. Where I can just grab some quality me time. Sometimes I choose to go there and sometimes it chooses me. And although the latter isn't always pleasant, and is the main reason why when I go to restaurants that give out matches I grab a handful resembling a fat kid's in a candy jar, there are very few things that bother me when I sit down to 'take care of business'. Except one. Are you kidding person who puts single ply toilet paper in their bathroom? If anyone ever asks me if I want to know what it feels like to ride down a banister made of tree bark and sand paper naked, I'll kindly tell them no thank you. I already know. They'll inevitably ask me how and I'll reply that I had the Moo Moo Mr. Cow from Moe's for lunch (Best deal in the place by the way. Small Burrito. Drink. Chips. AND A COOKIE. For about $5. How can you beat that?) and your bathroom was the closest, approximately30 to 45 minutes after I finished eating. And don't argue that it's cheaper or is better for the environment. There are some things you don't cheap out on and the extra ply in my toilet paper is pretty close to the top of the list. Plus the fact if I am using your bathroom chances are you're a pretty big corporation and can afford the extra money that it would cost to by some Charmin. (I know you the reader are thinking, "What about when you are at a friend's place who stocks singly ply?". Simple answer. I am not friends with people who stock single ply.) And if it comes between a tree and my wiping comfort. I'll take my comfort every time. Sorry Earth. Single ply toilet paper is a job half done. Just think if everyone took the approach you take when it comes to toilet paper. What would have happened when Kevin McCallister was preparing for the Sticky Bandits in Home Alone 2? (Not the Wet Bandits. That was in the first one. Get your head in the game.) The happy ending in Rockefeller Plaza never would have happened and the holiday season of 1992 would have been ruined all because you were too frugal to buy a quality of toilet paper better than singly ply.

Are you kidding iTunes?

For some music lovers every Tuesday is like Christmas/Hannukah/Your Birthday. There sitting under the Christmas tree that is "Free on iTunes" is an endless possibility of potential music that Apple can decide to give me. But recently, every Tuesday instead of getting a "Red Ryder BB Gun" of a song (if you don't get that reference you either don't celebrate Christmas, don't own a VCR, or have spent every evening of December 24th and day of the 25th in a way that I probably don't want to know about) I've gotten the equivalent of gift wrapped crap. Are you kidding iTunes? When I click on the Free Song every Tuesday I expect to hear something I at least can tolerate. And yet when I listen to the preview of the song that you're so excited for me to download, you violate my eardrum so terribly that it needs to go take a cold shower to wash away the shame that you have bestowed upon it. They make Lifetime movies about what you've done to my ear, and yet you continue to gift me terrible music. No means no iTunes. What makes you think I want to hear a "French vocal legend" or some blues singer that makes me want to cut myself, because that pain would be better in comparison. And it's not like Apple doesn't have staff that has the ability to pick good music. After I've heard the majority of your commercials, I've gone to your store and bought the song. But that just proves the point that you iTunes, are a gateway drug. Parents warn children that drinking and smoking can lead to harder drugs if they're not careful, and yet they let those same children click on the iTunes store page without warning. In a situation like this iTunes take a page from Michael Jackson's book. It was he who sang the powerful words "Think about the generations and to say we want to make it a better world for our children and our children's children" in Heal the Wolrd. Because if anyone knows about taking care of children iTunes, it's MJ.

Are you kidding driver of a smelly cab?

Oh I'm sorry. When I pay for a good or service there is an understood agreement between me, the buyer, and you, the provider of said goods or services. When I give you my hard earned money I expect to leave the purchasing experience satisfied. So why are you surprised that when I open up the door to your cab and get smacked in the face with one of the worst oders I've ever smelled I'm a little pissed off. Are you kidding driver of a smelly cab? If I wanted to smell a copious amount of onion/used gym sock/weird spices, I would have gone running and then sniffed my spiced onion stuffed socks for 10 minutes while being driven up town. But oddly enough that usually isn't the case when it's raining/I'm running late/any other reason I have for taking a cab. Instead, I have to drive down Park Ave where the only cars with heads out their windows are your cab and the people driving with their dogs. And don't think I don't see you giving me weird looks through the rear view mirror. I do. And I also know that when you repeatedly talk on your phone, glance back at me, start laughing and start talking on your phone again, that you are talking about me. Because let's be honest. Everyone who can speak a language besides English basically gets a free pass to talk about people right in front of them. (At least that's what I would do.) But the best part is you look surprised/disappointed/pissed when I don't leave you a good tip. If you were at a fine restaurant and every time the waiter was leaving your table, he turned and his ass was in front of your face, and he farted would you leave him a tip? I didn't think so. Maybe you should take the dollar that I did leave you and go buy one of those hanging pine trees, a bottle of Febreeze, or a can of gasoline and a match? Why the last one you ask. Because if my job was to drive around in a car that smelled like that, I'd sure as hell burn it.

Are you kidding foreign family on my flight home?

Some of you may have heard this story before, but I flew yesterday and the terror that happened to me on this one particular flight still haunts me to this day.

I was flying home from a training and I was excited because I caught the earlier flight home. (No it wasn't from San Diego and no naked people popped out of my bathroom like a magic show) When I boarded and went to my seat there was already someone occupying the chair. I was fine and calm about it, but the man in my seat was speaking a language I didn't understand and it was difficult to communicate with him. When I tried to tell him that the he was in my seat, he just pointed to the middle seat in the row behind me and said that I could sit there. I said I didn't care where his seat was, I needed to sit in the aisle, and the isle seat he was in was mine. So the man nodded and unbuckled his belt like he was going to move. But instead of moving back to his seat he decided to move over one seat and fit him, his wife, and their eight year old son in the two other seats in the row. I thought that it was a little strange, and they kept on giving me dirty/weird looks, but I tried to ignore them. Once we took off I tried falling asleep but I worked it out in my head that as soon as I shut my eyes he was going to kill me. Needless to say I couldn't sleep even though I was dead tired. I then pulled out my laptop to watch The Office DVD, because if anyone could help a situation like this it was Dwight Schrute. About half way through the Valentine's Day episode (great episode by the way) the kid started throwing Sun Chips at my computer. Now I'm a big fan of whole grain snacks, just not when they're across my keyboard. After I shoot the dad my best "what the hell" look, instead of apologizing, the dad just reaches over and removes the chips like nothing happens. After snack time was over, the kid decides to lay across his parents lap so that his feet were next to my leg. And then the kicking started. The little bastard was constantly kicking my leg for a good 20 min. After I shot the dad the tenth "what the fu*k" glare (I upgraded because I was starting to get pissed) he finally caught on. He turned the kid to sit upright . When he did he started kicking the seat in front of him so much that the lady in front of us turns around and starts screaming at them, and I haven't heard someone scream like that after a kick since Ray Finkel's "kick heard round the world" in Ace Ventura. After that things settled down for a good 10/15 minutes and I thought that it was all over. Oh how I was mistaken. The little boy, who reminded me Mowgli from the Jungle Book, decided that he needed to go to the bathroom. But instead of waiting, he decided the time was right to drop his pants right there in the aisle. So now sitting in the row are me, the two parents, and the half naked eight year old. I tried to ignore it but I was getting yelled at by the dad because my computer was in Mowgli's way to the aisle. Once I get up the half naked boy runs down the aisle of the plane. At this point I call for the flight attendant who sees how pissed I am, and the half naked boy running up and down the aisle, and tells me that she'll go get some club soda. Club soda? Why would I need club soda? Because the flight attendant informs me she thinks I've been peed on. So I start looking all over my pants to find the stain. Luckily my pants were not soiled, however my flying experience clearly was.

Are you kidding 6 train on the weekend?

When is waiting good? Never. Waiting for test results. Waiting in line. Waiting for the writer's strike to end. (Yeah. I'm still a little bitter about that). In fact is there a situation where waiting is fun? Tell me one for a dollar. (Send responses to fatchanceinhellyouwilleverseethatdollar@gullible .com) But in most places, when the waiting subsides the reward makes the waiting well worth it. Most places. Not New York City. Because when I am waiting for the local green line subway on Saturday or Sunday I am not greeted with relief. I am greeted with a subway car packed so full of people it's truly a miracle every time I leave the train without contracting an STD. Are you kidding 6 train on the weekend? During the week most people are working during the day and I wait no more than 10 minutes for you to stop at my station. But on the weekends, when most of New York is not working you decide to run less frequently. What's wrong with you? That would be like Trojan slowing down production around Valentine's Day, the exact opposite of supply and demand, not to mention unsafe. And once you finally do reach the stop, your doors open and shut so quickly that by the time the masses of people exit I almost have to dive through them just to make it on board. And why is it 6 train, that no matter where I stand on the platform, you always pull up so that the car I go in puts me smashed against someone who is either fat or smells like old cheese sitting in the sun too long on a hot July day? You've done so much bad things 6 train. And you know what I learned? That even though she celebrated you in her debut album, that Jennifer Lopez is full of shit.

Are you kidding person who takes forever to order Pinkberry?

There are a lot of important decisions that are made throughout life. Who to marry? What career path to take? Whether or not to tell the stranger sitting next to you on the 6 hour flight that it was you who farted and stunk up the cabin? But regardless of the decision, one that is not life altering is what your Pinkberry (popular frozen yogurt place in Manhattan) order will consist of. Yes the frozen yogurt is good. But whether you get the Captain Crunch or Fruity Pebbles hardly stands up to which hospital to go to for residency? Yet without fail, every time I go there is always someone with their nose pressed to the glass deciding which toppings to get. Are you kidding person who takes forever to order Pinkberry? It's like you're Brad and Angelina deciding what the race of your next adopted child is going to be. It's frozen yogurt and chances are it's going to taste good regardless of what you put on it. You ignore the fact that it's people like you that cause the line to be out the door. You ignore the fact that it's people like you who make standing in that line take 20 minutes. If you're this bad at Pinkberry I'd hate to see you at Baskin and Robin's. Imagine 31 flavors. You'd still be there, even as I type this. Pinkberry even has a card that outlines the toppings and flavors, created for people like you. Yet you ignore the card, acting like you're better than it. You're the type of person who didn't use the 30 lives cheat in Contra. (Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, B, A, Select, Start.) Well, I hope alien forces come and attack you in the jungle. And as they probe and torture you, you'll call out to me for help. Because you know I have defeated those same aliens multiple times. But I won't help you. No. I will turn a blind eye and laugh, because you should have decided on the medium original with Captain Crunch, Strawberries, and Chocolate Chips long before you ever stepped up to the counter.

Are you kidding incorrect revolving door user?

I've been through a lot of doors, and not metaphorically speaking. Literally, holes in the wall with a swinging cover meant as a means of entering and leaving. Sometimes they've been fancy like the kind that slide into the wall or lift up like a garage. But of all of these the best is the revolving door. It's the only type that allows its users to both enter and exit simultaneously in an organized fashion. And having been to many office buildings, I've been around in quite a few of them, most of the time without incident. So imagine my surprise when I go to use the revolving door and there is a lady in the same section as me. Are you kidding incorrect revolving door user? First, the section is maybe five square feet. I don't think you need a masters in geometry to figure out that it was meant for one person. Also, when you hold your purse up and it is digging into my back maybe that should have been a good sign that you should have waited the extra 3 seconds for the next section. The next time you go to use a public bathroom I hope someone walks in to use the same stall you are using and then hits you up side the head with their purse. And then when you give them a dirty look and inevitably scream in protest for them to leave, I hope they just giggle and smile instead of apologizing, and let's see how you like it. But the worst incorrect revolving door user was the one I encountered yesterday. Some revolving doors are not light, and it takes a good heave to get them going. So when I was going back to the office, I put my hand to its designated spot, dropped my weight and pushed. I felt a little resistance halfway through my reentry so I tried pushing a little harder;until I heard a noise, looked up, and saw this lady's body staggering sideways. After she gathered her flailing body, she had enough time before security told her that she didn't belong in the building to turn around and shoot me one of the dirtiest looks I've received in a long time. But really? Who just stops in the middle of a revolving door. You know that episode of Seinfeld where George plays real life Frogger with the Frogger video game? I'd like to let this lady play the same game. And as she was trying to get to the other side of the street through oncoming traffic, I would ask her to stop abruptly like she did in the door, just to see what happens, as a fun experiment. Then we would see who was using the revolving door the right way.