1. Several people sit next to me through my ride home. The first is a woman who gets up at just about the second I sit down. She is replaced by a guy who is way too large to fit in the seat. He also has no idea how much space he takes up. As he gets up, he brushes my ear with the strap at the end of the umbrella handle sticking out of his back p
ocket. (Thanks, bro! Good lord!)
Upon his exit, he is replaced with a woman who is miraculously rocking both a faux-hawk and a leather jacket. It takes a special person to pull that off, but surprisingly she does.
A teenage kid with a skateboard and a backwards baseball cap sits down next. As someone with balance issues, I've always envied skateboarders. (I wonder if he can do an ollie!)
The kid gets up quickly and is replaced by I guy wearing really ugly black and white plaid pants. He crosses his legs almost entirely (Ouch, man!) and puts his arm over his face away from me. (Is that a relaxed position?)
2. The guy sitting across from me looks like an even cross between Charles Barkley and Yul Brynner. He's got really expressively cartoonish eyebrows that point upwards, so he sort of looks like Mr. Clean's evil twin, too. He's texting as we exit the tunnel. Given the fact that I've decided he looks like a (slightly jovial) super-villain, I'm wondering if he's texting Dr. Octopus about their next plan to attack Spiderman.
3. I have so many questions for the disheveled hipster guy with the bad, bright orange seventies-porn mustache who is holding what looks like an opened Amazon box with little stuffed animals peeking out. He's also carrying an umbrella, a backpack, the kind of canister one would use to house a a rolled poster. In addition, he's carrying countless other items. He's got a blackberry that he is glued to. He's got a pained look on his face, as if he's a human game of Blockhead ready to be knocked over.
4. Why aren't the digitized signs synced. One sign on one end of the car says the next stop is Fort Hamilton Parkway. The other sign on the other side says the next stop is Queens Plaza. I imagine as if the car is going to divide itself in a minute and I look around for any attractive women in my half of the car. No. The car is virtually empty. Just my luck. It would be me, the plaid-pantsed freaky guy and Mr. Clean. Oh no!
Well, at least it is Friday...
Upon his exit, he is replaced with a woman who is miraculously rocking both a faux-hawk and a leather jacket. It takes a special person to pull that off, but surprisingly she does.
A teenage kid with a skateboard and a backwards baseball cap sits down next. As someone with balance issues, I've always envied skateboarders. (I wonder if he can do an ollie!)
The kid gets up quickly and is replaced by I guy wearing really ugly black and white plaid pants. He crosses his legs almost entirely (Ouch, man!) and puts his arm over his face away from me. (Is that a relaxed position?)
2. The guy sitting across from me looks like an even cross between Charles Barkley and Yul Brynner. He's got really expressively cartoonish eyebrows that point upwards, so he sort of looks like Mr. Clean's evil twin, too. He's texting as we exit the tunnel. Given the fact that I've decided he looks like a (slightly jovial) super-villain, I'm wondering if he's texting Dr. Octopus about their next plan to attack Spiderman.
3. I have so many questions for the disheveled hipster guy with the bad, bright orange seventies-porn mustache who is holding what looks like an opened Amazon box with little stuffed animals peeking out. He's also carrying an umbrella, a backpack, the kind of canister one would use to house a a rolled poster. In addition, he's carrying countless other items. He's got a blackberry that he is glued to. He's got a pained look on his face, as if he's a human game of Blockhead ready to be knocked over.
4. Why aren't the digitized signs synced. One sign on one end of the car says the next stop is Fort Hamilton Parkway. The other sign on the other side says the next stop is Queens Plaza. I imagine as if the car is going to divide itself in a minute and I look around for any attractive women in my half of the car. No. The car is virtually empty. Just my luck. It would be me, the plaid-pantsed freaky guy and Mr. Clean. Oh no!
Well, at least it is Friday...
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