Before I write today’s post, let me vent about the fact that it was already written – operative words: “was” and “written.” The post was completed yesterday while on the train, and was saved diligently (multiple times) to ensure that the fruits of my blog labor would be safeguarded against accidental deletion. As I sat myself down last night, ready to transfer the post into WordPress, I came to the shocking realization that the ass of a CrackBerry had eaten my post. Yes, that is correct people – today’s original post was sent into the big black Internet hole courtesy of the AsscrackBerry and/or the shitty GMail app – I haven’t decided which of the two is the bigger asshole yet, but I’m sure they are both equally responsible for the demise of my post. In any event, I need to sit myself down and re-write the original post, but can only do so when inspiration strikes me once more. In the absence of said post, I present you with the following true story… A word of caution: I am not exactly kind in my description of certain events but you may attribute this to the fact that certain people pissed me the F off before 8 a.m. You have been warned – but don’t hold it against me.
As you likely know from reading this blog, I seem to be frequently plagued with interesting situations that I sometimes feel, must only happen to me. I’m convinced that these are the Universe’s way of testing not only my patience, but my mental capacity toward stupidity as well. Truth be told, it’s probably a real miracle that I haven’t gone Hobo with a Shotgun on more then one occasion as a result of the self-entitled assholes that I encounter more often then I would like. But hey – who wants to spend time in jail for ridding the world of stupid A-Holes?
This morning I woke up before the alarm – another miracle. I got ready for work, had time for breakfast (this is no small feat) and headed off to the train station. When I arrived at Central Station, I bee-lined for the coffee shop that I frequent every day, got my coffee and headed over to the leather chair ‘section.’ As is my custom. I sat down by the fireplace, put my bag on the chair next to me, pulled out my book and plugged myself into the Pod. All was well with the world until Jabba the Hut showed up. I see Jabba on a regular basis and each time that I do, I think a few things: 1) Dude needs to lose weight and fast, 2) He really needs to stop stuffing his face with pastries and danishes before he pops, and 3) It wouldn’t hurt to join a gym. I mean look, the guy looks like an unhealthy slob, end of story. Does that mean he’s not a nice guy? Normally I would say no, but today is not that day. Fast forward to a few minutes after Turdtastic arrives (err, that would be Jabba to you people) – when his equally plumptastic daughter shows up; she storms in like Rasputia on BBQ ribs (y’all need to check out Norbit if this reference means nothing to you) and slams her shit down on the chair that has my laptop bag on it. No, no people – I’m not exaggerating. There was no civility or delicacy in her actions whatsoever. So I look up as she walks away. Generally, I don’t care if someone puts their bag or coat on the same chair as my stuff, but today was not that day either.
Plumptastic returns from her pastry run (obviously) and with the grace of an elephant, throws herself directly onto my laptop bag. No shit people. She does not ask me if I can move my bag, or if I might be waiting for someone, or if she can sit down. She just deposits her over-sized big ass, onto my shit. It is quite possible that there was steam coming out of my ears at this point but I’m not sure. I grabbed my bag and yanked it out from under her fat ass and informed her that NEXT TIME, she might want to ask before sitting her ass down on someone else’s belongings. Admittedly, my sharp wit was a bit slow this morning because normally, there would be a lot more punch to whatever came out of my mouth. Anyway. I guess Jabba was talking to me because I kept hearing some kind of babbling in the background but Plumpy’s ass was in my way so I couldn’t see him. When I popped my head around said ass, I observed Jabba mouthing something to me. So I take out one headphone and say “Excuse me?” Jabba then has the balls to ask me if there’s a problem. “Yeah there’s a PROBLEM! Civilized human beings typically ask before sitting their asses down on other people’s belongings.” Jabba then starts to give me a lecture about bags not belong on chairs, which was cut short by the fact that I popped my headphone back in for the simple reason that I didn’t give a shit. There are many things I could’ve told Turdtastic Jabba – like pastries don’t belong in his mouth. I could’ve told Jabba to get off his high horse, but I suspect he’s not allowed to mount one due to existing animal cruelty laws. Has anyone every seen a legless horse before? So I will say this: take your sense of entitlement and shove it up your ass. Perhaps you and your unhealthy daughter should consider joining a gym and working out each morning, instead of harassing people about the bags-on-chair ban. Also, nice way to lead by example…. DAD (Uh, to be clear, we’re not talking about my dad).