I wish I didn't feel so out-of-place. It's like I belong to a parallel dimension.
The past week, I've felt pretty low. No reason at all; I'd wake up each day and my body would say, "where the fuck do you think you're going?"
The very nice girl has deftly sidestepped my invitation to dinner. If she's read my navel-gazing moral quandary/flirting with others post, I certainly can't blame her.
NEWS FLASH:
I'm a dumb fuck, who's also fucked up.
My life could use a few retcon punches.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
One Year Later
Note: This has nothing to do with the DC Comics storyline.
This blog is one year old. How to celebrate?
I know! A quick bitchfest about how public transportation can suck:
While at Queensboro Plaza this afternoon on the Manhattan-bound N, an older (late 30s/early 40s, I guess) obese fellow boarded the train, dragging his wheeled luggage behind him. His sweatpants were tucked into his shoes. The pants were soiled from the ankles up to mid-shins.
The gentleman must have gone swimming in the sewer recently because he was RANCID. Upon realizing that there wasn't an available seat, he threw down his luggage in my direction, and let out a "FUCK!" followed by a quiet stream of obsceneties.
The thought of getting up to correct his behavior quickly and violently crossed my mind, just before the stench overcame me, and survival instincts kicked in. Everyone within 10 feet got up and moved to one end of the car or the other. We were in the middle. I was ready to throw up as the train dove underground.
Moving to the next car was not an option: the doors were locked.
Not soon enough did we enter the next station. I RAN to the next car, and pittied anyone who entered the other.
At Times Square, the situation was much, MUCH less revolting. The downtown 1 train lacked air conditioning. It's amazing how quickly they turn into ovens.
This blog is one year old. How to celebrate?
I know! A quick bitchfest about how public transportation can suck:
While at Queensboro Plaza this afternoon on the Manhattan-bound N, an older (late 30s/early 40s, I guess) obese fellow boarded the train, dragging his wheeled luggage behind him. His sweatpants were tucked into his shoes. The pants were soiled from the ankles up to mid-shins.
The gentleman must have gone swimming in the sewer recently because he was RANCID. Upon realizing that there wasn't an available seat, he threw down his luggage in my direction, and let out a "FUCK!" followed by a quiet stream of obsceneties.
The thought of getting up to correct his behavior quickly and violently crossed my mind, just before the stench overcame me, and survival instincts kicked in. Everyone within 10 feet got up and moved to one end of the car or the other. We were in the middle. I was ready to throw up as the train dove underground.
Moving to the next car was not an option: the doors were locked.
Not soon enough did we enter the next station. I RAN to the next car, and pittied anyone who entered the other.
At Times Square, the situation was much, MUCH less revolting. The downtown 1 train lacked air conditioning. It's amazing how quickly they turn into ovens.
Monday, June 19, 2006
It's funny...
When I first got my wonderful apartment in Astoria, one of my roommates shared my last name. We're not even close to related; it's purely a coincidence. Even though she's moved out, we still get mail for "The Brady Family."
Friday, June 16, 2006
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Carlos & Tara's Wedding
All I have are 8 good pictures. More to come in a couple of weeks, as I get the official pics, and a few from the other people there.
Click here for a Flickr slideshow.
Click here for a Flickr slideshow.
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