The Subway Seating Situation

One thing I skeeve more than anything is someone else's body rubbing up against mine - except my girlfriend's of course :) People, if there is a sliver of an inch between me and that obtrusive vertical bar on the subway, do not sit next to me! Why should I have to squeeze my legs together, crunching my balls, just so you can ease your fat ass onto a seat? And no, I can't leave my legs open at a comfortable man distance, because I absolutely refuse to have any part of my body rub against yours. Okay, I have failed to shower today, but at least I showered last night! I know dogs that shower more often than you.

It's bad enough I have to worry about the seat I'm sitting on, or the bar I'm touching. God knows what kinds of bodily fluids or bacteria villages live on those uncomfortable 70s orange grooved seats.

The Commissioner Talks Baseball

Hear what the nomadic Lower East Sidean has to say about America's favorite past time, and of course its relationship with money.

The Eyebrows

Did someone take a sharpie and draw a line above your eye? What is that? Aren’t eyebrows tiny hairs that grow across the top of the eye? You must be one of those real high maintenance chicks. Holy shit! You’re a guy? As one of my favorite comedians, Artie Lange says, “This whole generation is a bunch of fruits.”

Listen, I’m not saying you should grow those things out ala Martin Scorsese, but at least maintain some sort of human eyebrow consistency after a trim. I’m looking at you and I’m thinking a few things:

1) Are you a clown?
2) Which part of Jersey are you from?
3) Or maybe one of those places north east of the city…Queens, Long Island, whatever…
4) Seriously, are you a clown?
5) Were your eyebrows bothering you so much that you had to have them surgically removed and replaced with a dark black line?
6) Why am I even obsessing over this? Can you please just give me the coffee I ordered and I’ll be on my way…

I think at the very least there should be some sort of measurement guidelines as to how much eyebrow one can actually chop off. Of course nobody wants to see a unibrow – we’re not Eastern European here. But, the eyebrow should at least match up with the ends of each eyeball. Just give me that. Can we work with that? Sometimes I feel like I’m looking at hyphens over people’s eyes. Are you trying to work on your grammar? (old man joke I know.)

The moral of the story – I’m not that angry with you and your eyebrows. I just consider you inferior and a moron. No big deal. Now let me go trim my unibrow so I don’t look like an asshole.

The Charlie Sheen

If you think Charlie Sheen is a scumbag on his hit show, TWO AND A HALF MEN, then you haven’t been keeping up with his real life antics. Then again, if you’re watching TWO AND A HALF MEN, you probably don’t have the best taste in programming anyway. Okay, there’s an occasional funny joke per season. But, this guy is unreal.

Just the other day I was listening to Howard Stern, as I regularly do in order to stay alive. (Please re-sign at the end of the year or I may die!) Stern just so happened to have Denise Richards in his studio. She was being flirty, hot, and a tad slutty. But, it was all in fun and there was no mention of what she had been through the previous night. Her ex, Sheen, had tagged along for her New York City trip with the kids. He decided to check into the room across the hall from her and the kids at the Plaza Hotel. What a nice father. The kids were staying in some ridiculous,” Hey, look how wealthy we are childrens’ suite.” While Charlie prepped his, “Hey, look how much of a disaster I am suite.”

Dinner was planned at some upscale restaurant in the city that I’ll never eat at, and Charlie lovingly brought along his HOTD – hooker-of-the-day. Who the hell brings a hooker to dinner with his ex wife and kids? Well, I guess Charlie Sheen. Charlie then proceeded to go on an all night coke binge, ending up in a THE HANGOVER scenario where his naked body laid out on the Plaza Hotel floor.

CBS, can you please cancel his show ASAP? Not that I have any morals or anything, but the show that needs to be aired is the show that is Charlie Sheen’s real life. This is quality programming at its best. Why watch twenty minutes of canned laughter and hackneyed jokes, when we can watch the dude from HOT SHOTS go to dinner with a hooker, have an all night coke binge in New York City, and tear up the Plaza Hotel in a fit of rage. That’s three solid story lines, and no fake background laughter necessary.

Anyway, apparently Charlie has been missing ever since the fiasco. Maybe we should check one of those office situation comedies on NBC – doo do chi!

The Newborn

Eeehh eeehhh…

Please don’t do it. I just finally knocked myself out with a scotch and Claritin D combo. (Which by the way is not good for the heart. Don’t try this at home.)

Eeehh…

Dude, I would pay you not to do it….

WAAAA!!! WAAA!!! WAAAAA!!!

Fantastic. What time is it? 5 A.M. Well I guess in rural America you have the rooster’s crow. In New York City, you get the relentless cries of a foreign newborn, who just so happens to reside across from my conveniently open bedroom window. Sure I could close the window, pop on the AC, and pump up some Led Zeppelin on my itunes. But, Con Edison’s monopolistic power has what I like to call a chokehold on my budget. Let me wait this one out…again.

WAAA!! WAAA!! WAAAA!!!

Like come on, seriously? I don’t even hear the jitters in this thing’s excruciating screeches. Shouldn’t there be some jitters from the parent bouncing the thing around in his/her arms? Or a suffocating pause from a bottle being force-fed down its mouth? Give me something I can work with here. Does anyone even live over there?

Maybe the baby is actually living down in the ally. Should I call social services? Although then I would actually have to hold some sort of responsibility and actually act like I care about the child’s well being. When in fact the only being I care for is…myself. Kidding! (kinda.)

WAAA!! WAAA!! EeeHee!!! WAAA!!!

Was that a hesitation in between the “Waa?” Please tell me you’re tiring out, because God knows those neglectful parents aren’t going to put out your cries for help. Who let’s their newborn cry throughout the night? I’m actually considering walking outside, switching buildings, rocking the damn baby in my own arms, shutting it the fuck up, and walking back to my bed for precious sleep.

Comfort the damn thing! Put a pacifier in its mouth! Hell, give it up for adoption for all I care. But, for Christ’s sake shut it the hell up!
Eeehh!! Ekkk!! Ekkk…ee…e…

Wait for it…could it be? I don’t hear it. Thank you! There is a God! My pounding headache thanks you for allowing me the next half hour of peaceful sleep. Yes, I know it’ll only be for a half hour, but you’ve blessed me with this rare gift of peace, and for that I am thankful. Let this be a warning to always wear protection, and never have a child until I can afford for someone else to take care of him.

Uggh! I can’t go back to sleep now. What time is it? It’s after 6? The sun is out now. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Eh, I guess I’ll treat myself to some McDonald’s breakfast. Let me just find my basketball shorts…

Eeeehh…Ehhhh….

Yea, yea, go ahead. What do I care now? The damage is already done. Cry away ya stubborn bastard.

WAAAAA!!! WAAA!!!!! WAAAA!!!!

The Cock Block

Could this girl be even hotter than the last? She’s looking at me right now – giving me the eye. Not the lazy eye, or the “fuck off” eye either. The signs are all aligned, like 2012. It’s like a slow motion movie scene. Either that or I’m starting to feel slightly buzzed from the whiskey. A sly tap on my friend’s shoulder, with a nod in her direction will allow for friendly reassurance. What do you think? I know, right? Awesome. I need to walk over with a drink in my hand. It’s always good to carry a prop, especially one with beer in it.

“Hey!” yelled the slightly inebriated girl with no particularly great attributes.

“Hi?”

Listen, you seem like a very nice person, but you’re jamming my radar.

“What’s up, I’m Jenny.”

Very nice to meet you. Again, if you could just step out of the way so I can keep an eye on my…shit! Where did she go? I’m not talking to this girl! She’s talking to me! Where is she? Somebody needs to take over this.

“How’s it going?” I say, without a look into her eyes.

“What are you drinking?” she asks as I take a deep chug from my Amstel Light.

“Vodka.”

“You’re funny. How old are you?”

“How old are you?”

“Guess,” she says, with a heavy dose of flirtation.

Honestly she looks anywhere from thirty to forty. So, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Twenty-seven,” I lied.

“Ew, you’re so mean.”

Great, then get the hell out of my way so I can find that girl.

“I’m twenty four!”

“Close.”

“You’re so sarcastic. I love that.”

Jesus Christ, are you serious?

Jesus Christ: "I thought you’d like her."
Me: "No!"
Jesus Christ: "My mistake. See ya in hell."
Me: "Thanks Jesus!"

And he’s gone. Sorry about that. Now, where was I? Oh right, I’m sarcastic. Yes, thanks. I get it.

“Are those Chuck Taylors?”

They clearly are. What is she driving at now?
“Yea.”

“I once had sex with a guy just because he was wearing Chuck Taylors.”

The platter is served. But it’s more like an Applebees entrée, rather than a preferred porterhouse or lobster. Does this come with free dessert? Oh, stop it! You don’t want this. She is way too attainable. There’s nothing wrong with her though. Why does she want to throw herself at me like this? Must be a recent break up. I’m the rebound. I will rebound for no one. Well, unless the N.B.A. was thinking of recruiting five foot ten white guys without any athletic build and a sore shoulder. I could probably rebound for the Knicks or something. But, I will not be her rebound.

“That’s crazy. Did you see my friend?” I responded.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Don’t make me feel bad. I’m a very caring person. That’s not right. Did you just brush my crouch with your hip? That was pretty cool. Why did you have to come off so easy? That’s disgusting. I mean clearly there’s something wrong with you.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

Where the hell is my friend? There he is! Get over here.

“Jenny, this is Adam.”

There you go. Talk to Adam. That’ll get you off my back. Now, where did that prize go? She must be around here somewhere. Maybe if I continue to talk to Adam and Jenny, make it look like I’m enjoying myself, the hot girl will get jealous.

“So tell Adam what you were saying…”

Jenny? It’s me. The one you were throwing yourself at two seconds ago. Adam, I introduced her to you to say hello. I didn’t tell you to block me out of the conversation. She likes me, not you! At least bring me back into the group so I look important and fun again. Quickly, here she comes. She’s back! She’s looking at me again.

“Jenny?”

Shit! She saw you ignoring me. How do I get out of this situation? Now she thinks I’m a loser, who is here all alone.
Don’t look away. Didn’t you see that I was talking to a girl earlier? She totally wants to sleep with me. That’s my friend Adam. He means nothing to her.

“So, Jenny do you want to get out of here?”

“OK!”

Shit! What the hell was that? I don’t want you. I want her. Adam, talk to her again.

“Actually, I may get another drink.”

“I really want to go though.”

God she is so desperate.

“I’ll walk you home.” Adam interrupted.

“OK!” said Jenny.

Wait a second. Where are you guys going? I can’t stand here alone, and Adam you know I like Jenny. How could you not tell? How did I just go from slam-dunk to the third wheel? Oh, you guys are sharing a cab uptown? That is so not right. You know I live downtown. Yea, yea – have fun you two. I set that up you know. You owe me big, Adam! Jesus, I totally want to sleep with Jenny.

Jesus Christ: “I told you. Now you’re fucked.”
Me: “Yes, thanks God.”
Jesus Christ: “Its just Jesus.”

The Card Hander-Outer

These guys are at every street corner, outside every barbershop, and of course recruiting for that class-A “Gentlemen’s Club.” Which quickly brings me to my first tangent. Why are strip clubs called gentlemen’s clubs? Has it become a gentlemanly trait to stare at a woman’s tits while trying to land dollar bills on the stage from ten feet away? The only gentlemanly thing I’ll ever do at a strip club is look at that forty-something year old beat up stripper just so she doesn’t think she repulses me (which she does.) But, I feel bad. I mean I want the little dignity remaining with her to at least last the next two years. I think that may be about the only gentlemanly thing that occurs at a strip club - the courtesy look of interest out of pity.

Anyway, to get back on track to the guys who hand out those cards or flyers. They’re usually some poor schmuck or Mexican immigrant, who can care less about annoying the general population, so long as they make five dollars an hour under the table. I don’t blame them entirely, but do owners really see an increase in profits from these people? I’ll be walking down the street, thinking up the best way to justify being an hour late to work, when all of a sudden a card is offered to me. Now, I will instinctually grab one out of every twenty-five cards handed to me. In fact, they throw it out there so quick; I may even accidentally grab it if it was a used condom. Let’s hope Trojan doesn’t start an out of the box guerrilla marketing campaign this way.

So I have the card in my hand. It’s a five-dollar psychic reading. How karmic that this is placed into my hands. Certainly this is ingenious marketing by Chloe, the psychic. Really though? Do I even need to get started on this? First of all, for those of you who actually think there are supernatural people out there who can read the future, there aren’t. It’s a big scam! Even if these people do exist. How great can a five-dollar psychic be? A Doublecone from Mr. Softee costs more than that, and the only prediction a Doublecone yields, is that you will need to use the bathroom within an hour. If this person were legitimately capable of reading your deepest thoughts, your love life, and your future, wouldn’t they be paid more than a psychologist? Of course not. They would only pay that person five dollars for their time. That is all one’s life is worth according to Chloe’s pay scale.

The cards vary from psychic to religious jargon. I would like to speak on behalf of the average pedestrian. I have nothing against you personally, but next time you see me just skip me. I don’t feel like saying, “sorry,” or “no thanks,” when you hand me a dollar off for a foot rub card. Let me give the card-hander-outer man a tip of advice. You can cut out the middleman by simply tossing your stack of cards directly into the nearest trashcan. Because let’s be honest, nobody holds on to those things for longer than a block and a half. They are sloppily folded in half, sometimes more than once, and quickly dispersed of by the time we reach the next trash can. And hey, if you’re all out of cards, then you’ve done your job, and you should still get paid. Now that’s win, win.

Jeter Flirts With Area Female

New York Yankees captain and shortstop Derek Jeter was seen flirting with an attractive female at a trendy Manhattan bar over the weekend. The bar is located in the uprising Tribeca area, and is frequented by athletes and celebrities alike. But no one expected this.

“In the twenty years I’ve known Derek, I’ve never seen such an effort in the public spectrum. To be honest, I was a little embarrassed,” said longtime friend Frank from Hoboken, New Jersey. “Even I’ve adapted the ability to pick up his scraps without the need to exchange cordial words with the opposing woman. It’s a sad day.”

Derek is well known as a womanizer, and has been linked to numerous hot celebrities and models including: Jessica Biel, Jessica Alba, and Alyssa Milano. His status as a stellar bachelor has never been in question in the past. However, after this weekend’s blatant display of public affection for what was described as a 9.5 out of ten, many Yankees fans have reasons for concern. Perhaps this could take away from the All Star’s play on the field. With the Yankees new 1.3 billion dollar stadium beginning its first year, this is the last thing fans needed to hear.

“If Jeters out there having to actually talk to hot chicks, it takes away from his concentration on the field. What’s wrong with this broad? Didn’t she know who she was talking to?” exclaimed die-hard Yankee fan, Joe Rossi. “And if Jeters gotta flirt to get some action, what hope do the rest of us have?”

In response to the heavy criticism, Jeter had this to say, “I’ve seen it done in movies and television programs, but never knew the intricacies of actually having to impress a girl with words and such. It’s given me a lot of respect for my fans, and hard working single guys around the world. I just hope I’ll never have to go through this humiliating experience again, and will be happy to return matters to the status quo – a simple wink and a nod.”

On a positive note, Jeter did reject the girl for making him speak and was seen leaving the bar with a solid ten later that night.

Arod Finally Gets Hit Single in October

After receiving countless “Bronx boos,” and criticism in the press, Yankees third baseman, Alex Rodriguez finally drops a single in October. Arod, 2007’s AL MVP, has been known to choke under pressure - specifically in crucial October playoff games. “He can never come up with a hit in October. It’s that simple,” says loyal long-time New York fan and Queens native James Fratto.

Arod’s single has been on the radio stations for over a week now, and is properly titled, “Mo Money, No Problems.” Also on the track is the once again popular rapper Lil’ Wayne, who has been a resurging artist in the Hip-Hop community. “I don’t like to disappoint my investors,” Arod said in reference to the countless Yankee fans that fund his astronomical salary. “I decided to collaborate with hit producer Timbaland, and finally generate a hit in October. I hope this puts an end to the criticism that has tarnished my career for the past decade,” Arod said. As of now, Arod’s single has yet to turn into a hit.

Overprotective Mom Goes Public

NEW YORK – FRIDAY - An Overly protective mom brought her abhorrent antics to an Upper East Side Starbucks coffee shop earlier this afternoon. She was first noticed after enthusiastically asking her toddler if he would like to wash his hands. The toddler was reluctant to wash his hands. As a result, the mother needed to approach the subject in an alternate manner. “Want to wash your hands in the bubbles? Mommy brought your bubbles with her.” This was enough to put her child over the edge, and the hand washing began.

Upon her return, the mother pulled neatly cut up pieces of what appeared to be Rotisserie chicken out of a Tupperware container. The toddler started grabbing pieces of the chicken, and helping himself to a nutritious meal. “You can’t eat the chicken. It’s too big!” said the mother. Unsure of what to do (and on the verge of panic) the over protective mother snapped into action, and pulled pieces of chicken out of the toddler’s mouth. But, the biggest food threat had yet to come.

The young boy reached into a tidy Ziploc bag, and pulled out a grape to munch on. “Don’t eat grapes!” cried the mother. Considering two healthy items were pulled away from the child, it is inconclusive as to what exactly his diet is. Perhaps he is allergic to food. Nevertheless, the second snack rejection sent the boy into a tizzy. There was only one way out of this debacle.

It was around 4:32P.M. when the mother started singing that familiar tune that makes those of us without children cringe. “Heads, shoulders, knees, and toes, knees and toes, knees and toes…” sang the mother. It should be noted that her rendition of the excruciating song was out of tone, and her pitch was way off. However, she did synchronize the words of the songs with the pointing of the appropriate body parts. This sent the child into an immediate trance, which can only be described as peculiar and disturbing. The song proceeded to last for an excessive six and a half minutes.

It should also be noted, that around this time other former overprotective mothers, whose children have left them for better lives, were seen reminiscing about their past occupations of stifling their children in humiliating and mentally unhealthy ways.