Are you kidding MTV reality show alumni?

If a baseball player isn't talented, he gets cut from the team and won't be in a Gatorade commercial. If a musician isn't talented he gets booed off stage and probably won't be in the next edition of Guitar Hero. And if an actor, like Bob Saget, isn't talented he wouldn't have fathered the Olsen twins as Danny Tanner for 8 seasons. So why is it that a person who has no talent but has been on reality television gets treated like they crap gold bars? Are you kidding MTV reality show alumni? Sure you can go to the bar and drink for free, hook up with anything that walks, and have it all documented in night vision, but that hardly constitutes as a talent. And yet you show up to clubs, restaurant openings, clinics with free STD tests, acting like you are the most important person there. But really, besides degrading yourself on national television every Wednesday night at 10 pm for 12 weeks what have you done? Gotten in catty fights over pointless issues; sure. Thrown up on the street or gotten arrested; of course. Contributed anything worthwhile to society that entitles you to the royal treatment; not really. And when someone is excited to see you (for some awful reason) don't act like you are too good to say hello. You're not. You're just some kid MTV producers decided to exploit to sell ad spots, nothing more. They used you like Pam Anderson used dirty needles. And while she contracted hepetitus, the MTV excecs made thousands of dollars and all you recieved was a free bottle of Belvedeer and a life full of shame as a chaser. But maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. It is possible that instead of going to college and getting a degree I should have been trying to win over Telia Tequilla's love. Because Uncle Jessie didn't go to college. He started a band and seemed to do all right... until the show got canceled. And unfortuatly MTV reality show alumni there is no cancel button in real life, so either stay home or wait in line and pay for your drinks like the rest of us.

Are you kidding fat lady escalator blocker?

I could complain that I had to sit on the runway for 2 hours the day before only to have my flight get canceled. But I won't. I could complain that Continental charged me $50 to change my flight from Laguardia to Newark. But that's in the past, and there's nothing I can do about it. (Literally. I called up customer service and the ever-so-nice lady and her supervisor told me so...twice. Also, the pleasantly kind supervisor told me that she didn't have a supervisor I could talk to and although she wouldn't tell me exactly who he was, I couldn't talk to the person who signed her pay check either.) Or I could complain that Jimmy Fallon as a replacement for Conan is like substituting toilet paper with that of sand, but seeing as I've never actually wiped with sand paper, I guess that wouldn't be fair. No, I'm not going to complain about any of those things because you made me miss the downtown E train by taking up the entire escalator and walking at a snail's pace. Are you kidding fat lady escalator blocker?It's bad enough I had to walk behind you on the non-moving escalator. I had to agonizingly watching you move down the stairs like a boulder falling through a Plinko board. Shifting your weight unexpectedly so that every time I thought you were going one way, you moved the other blocking my ability to pass. I had to listen to you breathe as heavy as Rocky after he fought Apollo Creed, for three flights of stairs. And this was taking the stairs going down! But the worst part was that as I descended the stairs at a snail's pace, I thought "I'm going to miss my train." And as sure as your love affair with the King and Queen of Burgers and Dairy, respectively, when I finally reached the platform, the E train was pulling away. I guess that's where Sir Mix A Lot and I differ. Because instead of letting you into my Mercedes, I would have rather pushed you in front of that train I missed. (And no, my anaconda didn't want none. And yes, it took me until I was about 15 to realize what that meant.) So the next time you want to take the walk down to the train, fat lady escalator blocker, step aside. Or take the elevator, because let's be honest, is that trip down the stairs really going to make that big of difference?

Are you kidding Moe's Southwest Grill?

Some things should definitely have an expiration date. Milk. Perishable Food. Lauren Conrad. News stories about rising gas prices and how the economy isn't doing too hot. (We get it. It's bad out there. But you sending a reminder everyday by reporting on how the price of a barrel of oil is up or how airlines are cutting jobs does not help. How about I come over to your house everyday after I let dogs pee on your carpet and remind you how bad it smells. Then you'll know how the public feels when they see your stories.) However, the one thing that should never have an expiration date is a good bargain. So then why is it that when I order off the kids menu you didn't give me the included cookie and soft drink. Are you kidding Moe's Southwest Grill? I walked all the way to 1st avenue in the 20's for the Moo Moo Mister Cow. And as I made my journey downtown I was excited with anticipation. I haven't had a dining experience with you since college and as I thought about the mini burrito, chips, cookie, and soft drink all for the low price of about $8, it's not difficult to understand why. So imagine the disappointment and betrayal I felt when your employee told me that the cookie and drink would not be included because I was too old. Sure the menu says for kids 12 and under and the cookie and drink only ended up being an extra $2.50, but what the hell? Would it have killed your profits for the day? Were you trying to prove a point? I also didn't appreciate that when I told your employee the Moe's at The (pronounced Thee) Ohio State University gave me the free cookie and soda, he snidely replied, "Well, this is New York." As if I accidentally stumbled into your store, not knowing what city/state I was in. I wanted to reply, "Well, this is Gigli" and torture him by forcing him to watch that horrible Ben Affleck/JLo movie, but it probably wouldn't have gone over too well. (Plus, that would have taken a lot of preparation and time and I was hungry) I've never known the feeling of being discriminated against for my age. Sure people might look at me funny when they find out I still watch cartoons, but that doesn't take money out my pocket. The only good thing that came out of this is that I finally could relate to how Blanche felt on the Golden Girls when Bea Arthur told her she was too old to be promiscuously dating. That, and I had one of my worst after-meal episodes in your restroom. So I guess we're even.

Are you kidding A-Rod?

Being a professional athlete has to be awesome. Not only do they get paid millions of dollars to play a game, they almost instantly become famous. The city that they play for falls in love with said athlete and pretty much anything they want is theirs; Nice apartments. Really good concert tickets. I bet they even get free refills at restaurants that don't give free refills. So it's not surprising when they act like they can do/get anything they want; even when that thing is a 50 year old single-named married pop star with a fake British accent. Wait, that doesn't sound right at all. Are you kidding A-Rod? You could probably have any girl in New York City and you settle for the material girl? I could understand if this was 1988 and you were into that sort of thing. But 20 years later? Maybe you just got finished watching A League of Their Own. You play baseball. The movie was about baseball. You must have tried Gina Davis but she showed no interest (even though you insisted you've seen all 19 episodes of Commander in Chief) so Madonna must have been the next best thing. Maybe you're into kabalah or women who adopt babies from random African countries. But if that's the case shouldn't you have gone after Angelina Jolie. Sure she's pregnant and quasi married to Brad Pitt, but you're the highest paid player in professional baseball. That has to count for something. Or maybe you just wanted the attention. Because let's be honest, what athlete doesn't? Take O.J. Simpson for example. He not only touched the lives of millions on and off the football field in the mid-ninties, he still grabbing headlines today. And I know you didn't kill your wife (and technically neither did OJ), but the next time you want to grab the headlines, maybe you should do something a little more exciting than Madonna. Like a Canadian hooker!

Are you kidding delivery man with no pen?

When I'm hungry, I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to call anyone. I don't want to read anyone my order and listen to them breath heavy into the phone and repeat everything I say in an accent I can't understand as it takes 5 minutes to write down the order. I just want my food as quickly as possible. Luckily, with the advent of the internet there is a solution to this problem. www.seamlessweb.com All I have to do is click a couple of times, enter my credit card information, and in 15-30 minutes my food is at my door. It's like room service for my apartment. Quick. Convenient. Just sign the receipt and get my food. No problems, one would think. But there is a problem. (You have to know by now that if there were no problems I probably wouldn't be writing about this.) The problem is when you want me to sign the receipt, but you don't bring a pen. Are you kidding delivery man with no pen? When I open my door and see you with my bag of food, I'm already salivating from the mix of anticipation and hunger. The only thing standing between me and a delicious meal is my Herby Hancock on the receipt you're holding. But you don't have a pen allowing me to sign. Why would you leave the restaurant with out a pen? That would be like a baseball player stepping up to the plate with no bat. I bet if you got hit in the back with a 90 mile per hour fast ball you'd never forget again. But therein lies the problem; there are no consequences for the lack of attention to detail that you put into your job. I already tipped you online because (being the good person that I am) I figured with a nice tip you'd get to my apartment more quickly. But you shatter my goodwill and hope with your lack of writing utensil. The next time you show up to my door without a pen, I should spray you in the face with water like a dog learning not to pee on the carpet. But then you might get mad delivery man with no pen, and then I'd probably not get my food which makes me worse than when I started. So I'll search through the junk drawer in the kitchen, find a pen, and angrily sign the receipt. But know that every time you show up to my door without a pen, a puppy dies. And that makes you delivery man with no pen a puppy killer.

Are you kidding elevator door opener?

I thought the person who rode the elevator to the third floor was the worst person to ride with. Lazy. Selfish. How could it get worse? But you, elevator door opener proved me wrong. When I step into that small box that transports me from floor 1 to 25, I want to get out of there as quickly as possible. Sure, some elevators have TV in them, but after riding a couple of times the stories rerun. (Plus they are written for really slow readers. Is 3 lines about how Anne Hathaway's ex-boyfriend stole money from Vatican investors really supposed to last me 30 floors?) So as the elevator doors are just about closed and I see your body extremity pop into view and pry the doors open, you can imagine my frustration. Are you kidding elevator door opener? Are you really in that big of a hurry that you can't wait the 30 seconds for the next one of 6 elevators to arrive? Do you have an appointment that you can't be late to? Sure, going to the doctor on time is important. But whether you find out you have herpes at 9:05:00 or 9:05:30 really isn't going to make that big of difference. Look at the big picture elevator door opener. (Yes. Everyone who pries open the elevator door clearly has questionable morals, and therefore makes bad decisions, sexual and/or otherwise. So it's safe to assume that they have *insert favorite STD here*) And the worst part is, when you pry open the door you not only let yourself in, you let in all the other people waiting as well. I get shoved to the back of the elevator and now my ride is uncomfortable because of you. Does it matter that I am on floor 25 and the elevator starts service on floor 24? Does it matter that when you walk in you say sorry and I pretend not to hear you and stare at the TV reading the same story for the 5th time? Does it matter that the regular TV season was cut short this year? No. None of these things matter to you. (I know that the last one is totally unrelated, but like your elevator etiquette both are complete bullshit.) So please elevator door opener, the next time you see the doors closing do what Carl Winslow would do when he saw Steve. Just pretend like it's not there.

Are you kidding morning peep show frequenter?

I'm back working in Manhattan. Luckily the place where I am working is close enough to my apartment that I don't have to wake up too early and can walk across town to the office. Walking across town entails going west of 32nd or 33rd depending on how crowded 32nd is. On this particular day I reached 33rd and 6th Ave just like any other day. Except on this day I saw you, morning peep show frequenter. I saw you walking out of the shady establishment with a big red "Adult DVD's" sign hanging above it, not looking ashamed or embarrassed. No. I saw you leave that place as if you just stopped into Starbucks for an espresso and maybe a muffin (I don't know how hungry you were, but considering your morning activities let's assume you are). You looked like it was totally normal for you to be leaving a one stop porn shop at 9am. I thought it was a little strange, but chalked it up to one of those freak things that you only see once and didn't think much of it after that. Until the next day. Because on the next day I left my apartment, headed west on 33rd, and as sure as Showtime is the best channel for summer television (No really it is, just by its Monday nights alone) there you were, walking out of the porn palace. Are you kidding morning peep show frequenter? While most people are trying to beat the morning commute, you're trying to beat something else. I guess I could understand if this was 1980, and the Busty Babes 7 VHS was hard to come by, but with the invent of the internet you really have no excuse. I always wondered what type of person would work at such a place, let alone go there. How about you take a page from Steve Job's book and in public places instead of yourself, you touch your phone (but wait untill July 11th because that's when the new phone comes out. And buying one now would be a waste of money.)