Reasons NOT to try to pick men up on the train...

There was a COVER GIRL on the T this morning. Applying make-up in front of everyone…pisses me off…I just think it’s rude….but the college girls use the train as their personal powder room all the time…every time I see them take the mascara wand out and lift it to their eye I pray for a bumpy ride…never happens…I am all for someone losing an eye on the train…especially a COVER GIRL…the reason is this….there is no reason to look good on the train…there is no one to impress Miss Seventeen…I promise you…this is not the Regal Beagle….there is no happy hour…and there are no men worth the loss of vision to look beautiful….here is why there are no worthy men on the train….

1. Chances are if he is on the Red Line….he doesn’t have a car. Hello…he is taking the T for a reason.

2. He may say he cares too much about the environment to own a car. That sounds believable until you find out he is a shift manager at the Subway on Tremont. Yeah the environment…ok.

3. There is a good chance he probably got busted for a DUI and he rode his kid neighbors Huffy to get to the T so he doesn’t lose his job at Subway.

4. There is a slight chance he might be homeless. Check for layers. Is he wearing three shirts and a coat? How about his socks? Is he sporting like four pair? You might also want to check if his “commuter bag” looks like it was designed by Hefty. If so…bad sign!

5. An attractive Professional looking guy? Well don’t get excited. He just got dropped off by his wife who was driving the Volvo with his two kids in the back seat and chances are she is on her way to the gym to TEACH pilates.

6. Another reason why an attractive professional would be on the train? He has a car, probably a nice one, and its parked in his reserved spot in the garage, at his office building….he probably told the wife he had to pull an “all nighter” last night…when in fact the “all nighter” wasn’t spent with a group of co-workers in a conference room, but at his secret boyfriends house on Wollaston Beach.

See COVER GIRL….there is no reason to even brush your hair when you step foot on this trolley of train wrecks….well wait I AM NOT a train wreck….I simply take the T so I can have material for my blog..has nothing to do with that fun filled night at Marina Bay last September when I rear ended my good friend in the parking lot, and totaled my Saab all while using my phone to update my Facebook…and I bet you thought I didn’t have a car because I cared about the environment.

Bird Feeder

Here is my favorite guy….the guy who feeds the damn pigeons everyday…you know right around rush hour in the morning….these rats with wings actually protect this guy….…..probably because he feeds them…if you get anywhere near the guy and his “feed” the birds will attack….nothing like dodging disease infested flying rodents before you even have your morning coffee…..there are 500 acres in the Boston common….but this guy likes the busiest corner…..I hate pigeons….hate them….they have no fear….they don’t move when you move…or if they do….they go for your face every time….



...nothing like looking like a crazy lady swarming at a flock of pigeons….not my best look…..so I am thinking now that a paintball gun would be a good investment….I could use it for punks who beep their horns too early….and to take out pigeons….sniper style….sorry “bird” lovers.

Jungle Jim. I say Jim because SHE is a HE.....and I can tell you she looked better than I ever could....what caught my eye most was the fact that she stretched herself across the aisle....grabbing the bar above my head and the bar across the aisle...and stretching! All I can say is it's against the RULES!!!!...but the men on the train completely ENJOYED her...I do not tell a lie. YOU GO GIRL!

XYZ....

Some punk was nice enough to wake me before my alarm this morning….blowing his damn horn like an idiot….I love that!.....one of the bonuses of living on a main street in the beautiful town of Braintree….but it makes me want to buy eggs and sit on my roof and peg cars that beep their damn horn for no reason….well maybe when the weather gets warmer….and I lose my fear of heights ….and if I can actually learn how to throw something past ten feet……ok so maybe egging cars isn’t the answer….but I could buy a paintball gun and snipe those horn blowers from my window…..wait can a blog be used in court as evidence?

When I was getting ready for work I couldn’t watch the news for obvious reasons…..this DAMN ELECTION!...so I watched “Sabrina the Teenage Witch” instead……much more entertaining……although she does make me wish for magical powers to teleport myself to work every day….but then again, if I did that, what would I have to make my life miserable and cause me to bitch incessantly.

I saw something I had never seen before on the train this morning….a guy with his fly down….he didn’t look like the kind of sketch that would do this ON PURPOSE…you know.. for fun…we get warned about guys like that on T posters…beware PERVS on the T!......well at least this guy was not going commando…..but still…....I wondered if anyone else noticed this man…STANDING for all to see….reading his “Rolling Stone” …..totally oblivious to the fact that his barn door was WIDE open….normally one could make eye contact with a stranger and give them the ol’ raised eyebrow look….ya know like if you got a bat in the cave…someone might touch their nose with their finger to give you the heads up….like hey you…you got a hanger…take care of it….but these rules do not apply on the train because…… eye contact is shunned upon….and you sure as hell don’t want to talk to anybody….but what it is one to do when you have a guy standing by your side with his skivvies hanging out his front door?.....

HEY Joe Boxer!…..Boxers or Briefs?….looks like we all know the answer to that question…THANKS for sharing!....but some things my friend…should remain a mystery…..and FYI every woman knows you sure as hell weren’t too busy washing your hands to forget to zip up….. so perhaps the next time you leave the house maybe you should “XYZ”…that’s code for “eXamine Your Zipper” pal!

Insta-Fam!

I have been sucked in…..that’s the only way I can explain it...I watched five straight episodes of “Teen Mom” yesterday……not sure how that happened…..must of been due to the fact that I have seen the same damn “Keeping up with the Kardashian’s” episodes for the past five weeks…….I could act them out in my living room for crying out loud……that must be the reason why I decided on Teen Moms….yeah I am sure this says a lot about my full social calendar….that I don’t have…..

I love how MTV chose Teen Moms from different backgrounds……some of these girls are ok…..like Maci for instance….she seems to be a great girl….has her priorities straight…but she’s shacking up with the ass lick Ryan….OMG! I want to choke this guy…..but he IS the typical Teen Dad….sorry but it is true…..I can’t believe she goes back to the schmuck!......I mean it would take a hell of a lot more than “Welch’s Sparkling Grape Juice”, on a pretty blanket, in the middle of the park to get me to go back to that loser……try Tequila, in a cabana, in Vegas…..or maybe a shot gun….

The other half decent girl is Catelynn this girl has some serious guts….she gave her baby up for adoption…..why?....because she had a shitty life, with shitty parents, and she knew that all she would be able to offer that child was……a shitty life!......that was the hardest episode to watch…..(Yeah I watched it when it was “16 and Pregnant”……I have no social life remember and these girls are getting more ass then me!) I hope this girl pulls herself together and does something fantastic with her life…..and when she is successful I hope she doesn’t do a damn flippin’ thing for her loser parents……

The other two bitches are the ones that make me want to write to friggin’ MTV and suggest they have a Teen Mom Special where old Teen Moms like me go in there and straighten those bitches out!.....just give me 5 minutes with these selfish … little…..gggrrrrr….you catch my drift?……This one fat, lazy, stupid, bitch, Amber makes me want to put my hand through a wall….all she does is friggin’ whine and cry and scream in front of her baby……..she needs to be slapped…..and so do the damn producers for not interfering with this crazy bitch every time she SWORE and SCREECHED with her baby in her arms……that bitch needs to fall down some stairs……

Then there is my favorite bitch of all……FARRAH…..she is well off……she lives with her parents……but FARRAH, former cheerleader…..likes to PARTAYYYY….she wants to stay out til’ 2AM and she back talks her mother constantly…..if I ever told my mother that I was gonna stay out until 2AM when my son was young she would have backhanded me into next week……..this chick is out of her flippin’ tree….then she is all pissed because she can’t score any ass because she has a kid…..is that girl all there or what?......HEY Philandering Farrah how the hell do you think you got into this situation? ……......guaranteed she in playboy by next season!

It still amazes me that there is a SHOW called TEEN MOMS…..when I was pregnant it was like top secret!.......I freaked out everybody…....I mean are there girls out there now saying to their friends…..I am sooooo going to get pregnant so I can be on Teen Moms next season…..OMG!.......everyone knows….we need to teach our teens about sex and protection…you know PREVENTION…….but I have a better idea……I think every teen girl should get a vibrator…..that will solve this whole epidemic….I mean seriously would a teen girl rather be fumbling around with an awkward, sweaty, smelling teen who has no idea where the button is…or would she rather just take care of business on your own…..no hickies and no babies!

Too Close for Comfort

As I was rushing out of my office Friday night, putting on my coat, I realized I lost a flippin’ glove….I thought to myself …..MOTHER OF GOD I am worse than a friggin’ preschooler when it comes to keeping track of gloves…..this is not the first time I’ve lost a glove, not the second, and certainly not the last!.....ugh!...I need idiot gloves…you know, like the gloves 4 year olds wear with the string that attaches them together……I refuse to buy another pair of gloves………don’t worry I thought of wearing the mismatched gloves…..I have no shame……only problem is I lost the same flippin’ glove…..the right one….so I am left with two left gloves…..I would never be THAT desperate….well never say never…..usually during the Winter you will see orphaned gloves and mittens everywhere, in the snow, on the street, at the train….lost lonely gloves….which I think is proof enough that I am not the only one who needs idiot gloves…

When I got on the train I was surprised to see lots of open seats….I scored a prime spot…..no one on my left…no one on my right…..nice…..just as I sat down and got settled this guy comes over and STANDS in front of me…..he grabs a book out of his BACK PACK!.....then raises his free hand to grab the rail above him, as he holds his open book with the other…..he was clearly staying…..this my friends is the perfect example of “THE HOVERER”…..instead of standing in front of…oh I don’t know…AN EMPTY SEAT!.....or maybe standing in the door way….he stands RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME……well his CROTCH is right in front of me…..….the thing is if you are lucky enough to get a seat on the T, you are UNLUCKY enough to have front row seats for the crotch parade…..you will avoid looking at crotch, but its gonna happen…...so this chump stood there reading his book breathing his nasty breath in my face…I thought to myself, I really am an idiot magnet…... HEY Mr. Hovercraft! Could you be so kind as to back the hell up! ….or I don’t know take a seat….last time I checked I wasn’t at the “All Male Review” and I wasn’t looking for a lap dance…..especially from a guy like you who is clearly a “GROWER” and not a “SHOW-ER”!

Sometimes the Suit Doesn't Make the Man

I got to the Braintree stop this morning feeling pretty fantastic.....because……it’s FRIDAY and a long weekend to boot…woo hoo!.......Thank you MLK!!!! Getting on the train at the Braintree stop is usually uneventful, since it is the end of the line, so trains are usually there when I get there, and I don’t have to freeze my ass off wait for one…..(Great! now that I said that, I probably screwed myself and Choo Choo Charlie will curse me, and now I will have to wait every morning for a flippin’ train)….that is how it works….say something positive about the MBTA and the next day, if not that afternoon, or evening, your commute will go to complete hell….I made my way to the escalator and walked up….yes..you walk up escalators…you do not stand on them and ride them up to the top….this isn’t Six Flaggs kids….it’s not a ride……it sucks when you hit that escalator at a good sprint only to find some dumb ass standing in the middle of the escalator….oblivious to the world around them….how do I solve this problem you ask? I stand on the stairs directly behind them….assuming the spoon position….if you ever want an idiot to move….invade their space………..and start humming like you drank 10 red bulls…it works….

I finally made it to the top of the escalator….….and made my way to my chariot……a steel death trap on wheels, and took my seat…I could hear music coming from someone…..who was it?....it drives me mad when I can hear music from an iPod and it’s not mine!.....mostly because whatever song is blaring out of their ear buds is guaranteed to get stuck in my head ALL DAY…but hey any song will be an improvement to the theme song from “The Walton’s” which has been stuck in my head for the past three damn days now…..I looked diagonally across from me and there he was……Mr. Slim Shady….he even looked like him….blonde…thin…and I imagine he thought he looked pretty “badass”….obviously one of Braintree’s finest…..He was wearing a suit and was definitely in his early 20’s….I am guessing maybe he was headed off to a job interview, or who knows…..maybe his arraignment at Quincy court…

This Eminem “wanna be” was boppin’ his head to the music…showing no shame…..giving me a free lip sync concert…..when all of a sudden…the golden moment occurred……I watched as he lifted his hand to his head….pointed one finger…and you guessed it…..went for the bat cave….now I understand the term “diggin’ for trout”…he dug right in….then I guess he found what he was looking for…..but it wasn’t good enough to just find it….he had to, in perfect male fashion, INSPECT his nugget….I felt like I was at home with my brothers…I was half expecting him to fling it at me….but no….this kid was classy, he wiped it on his wool dress coat….I was like…really?....does he not see me on the train?......Hey MTV Jams! Nice suit…but it makes more than a suit to make it happen pal…for starters maybe you should check for bats in the bat cave before you leave the house....and another thing Jazzy Jeff!... how about keeping that live concert going on in your head…IN YOUR HEAD….where it belongs!

I had the pleasure of taking the commuter rail this morning…now this is a completely different experience than taking that T……different rules…different fools.....and as you know, my tolerance for fools is pretty damn low….

I am sure many of you have taken the commuter rail into the city to see a Sox came or some other event…well riding the train during the week, especially the commuter rail, is a whole different ball park….the thing that pisses me off the most about the commuter rail is that it costs an arm and a leg (when I write that all I can think about is that damn chick in the t-mobile commercial holding the arm and the leg…I need that burned out of my brain!) and the other kicker?.....there is no bar service…….

The commuter rail is the perfect place to watch a snazzy dressed professionals nod off, snore and drool on themselves and if you are lucky enough…drool on you too….and it is usually the guy next to you…or should I say….ON YOU…and not ON YOU like Tom Cruise in his Risky Business train ride either…more times than not these “nodders” doze and dip…..which means they fall asleep and then lose the capability of holding their body up because….well they are DEAD asleep…

When you get on the train you have a few options for seating….single seating, two seater, and the three seater…single seating is very limited…..well you would think single seating would be ideal…and it can be, as long as you are not sitting across from the bathroom….which I might add smells like a port-a-potty at Lollapalooza….and if you have to use the train bathroom, you have to fight the urge to vomit as you try and pee…which can prove to be very difficult…not to mention trying to pee as you hover over the seat on a moving train….needless to say you never use the john unless absolutely necessary!......which means only if you have an EXPLOSIVE case of diarrhea….

I always try to grab a two seater….less drama….easy cheesy…..the three seaters?….nightmare-ish!.....here is the deal….the first person that sits in the three seater goes to the window. The second person that sits, sits in the aisle seat…..now you would assume that when the third person comes by to sit, that the person on the aisle would just slide over……………..NOT!.....they get up and let you get in so you can sit in the middle….. between Obnoxious Tech Guy and Dr. Drool….which makes for a great commute….nothing liek being the meat in a commuter sandwich....

This morning the train was packed….I had to sit in a three seater….ugh…. I like to find the person sitting in the aisle with the most shit on his lap….why you ask?...because I know how people think….they think….if I have my laptop out, and I have my coffee in my hands, and my backpack in the middle seat (yeah back pack!) and I “look” busy then people are less likely to ask to sit….well that is not how I roll…..I look for THAT guy….the TECH Guy with all his shit laid out on the seat….that is the guy that I bother…just for fun…they always ignore you when you say …excuse me can I sit here?....so you have to “tap” them on the shoulder….oh yeah I tap Tech Guy on the shoulder…

So I tapped this guy on the shoulder and asked if I could sit…..he was pissed….he huffed and puffed….the wire to his ear buds got caught…he had to grab his BACKPACK and laptop with coffee in hand to GET UP….so he could be “nice enough” to let me into the seat….Hey Mr. Gamer Laptop Lover! there is no need for a laptop to be open on a train for a 30 minute ride….unless maybe if you are working on a cure for cancer….and from the looks of the game you are playing, you and your "band of brothers" aren’t working on anything…except maybe not EVER getting laid.

The Bitch is BACK!

Don’t worry my friends….the bitch is back!.....I have not gone completely soft on ya….let me fill you in on my glorious commute last night….I got to the T station about six o’clock…it was a long day…the train was just arriving at the station when I was coming down the stairs…well hauling ass down the stairs…I was out of breath I might add, since I am still carrying around about ten pounds of “luggage” from my feed bag sessions at Christmas…..

For the record I always have to wait for my damn train so I was pretty pumped to see it pulling in…..I got on the train and to my amazement found a seat right off the bat!...then I thought for a moment….maybe this is all a dream….the train is here when I got here…I got a seat without having to accost anyone….something is wrong….perhaps I tripped and fell down the stairs and I am really not on the train but lying unconscious at the foot of the stairs…people stepping on, and over me as I lay there motionless….is this what they meant by “living the dream”?....I sure as hell hope not…

I eventually claimed my seat and sat down next to a pleasant enough looking woman….I brought my bag to my lap and started going through it looking for my blackberry...when….I noticed Ms. Bright Eyed Nosey Pants looking over my shoulder... INTO my bag…she watched as I moved things around trying to find my damn phone…this is when I wish I had something obnoxious in my bag…like vagisil or FDS spray or something…I am sure that would make her divert her eyes…maybe she would even move to another seat….this is when I knew I was not dreaming.

I finally found my phone in my bag o’ tricks……checked my facebook….and SO DID SHE!.......checked my messages….and SO DID SHE!...Hey Sally Snoops A Lot…you need time to put on your glasses? I don’t want you to miss anything…Hey why don’t you take your head off my shoulder and stop reading my PERSONAL e-mails. This isn’t romper room…and this isn’t story time. Mind your own flippin’ bee’s wax!

A Man and his Truck: A Story in Memory of My Father

My Father lived a good life, which I know from the great stories he would tell, and the songs he would sing. My father had many friends, from all walks of life. He was a Pipefitter by profession, and was a member of the Union. He loved to work in his garage and always kept his hands busy. He was always working on a neighbor’s car, fixing a friend’s boiler or doing some type of job after he retired. He had this big red GMC truck that had one of those horns that went….AAAAWWWWOOOOGGGGAH. I remember riding in the truck when I was a kid, begging to press the button for the horn when we saw my neighborhood friends. My Dad loved cars, and loved working on them, especially his red GMC truck.

We never knew my Dad was dying. No one would tell us. Then he stopped chewing, and then forgot how to swallow, and then we knew. It’s hard to see someone who you always thought was the strongest man in the world, slowly disappearing. My Dad didn’t know who I was during the last month or so of his life. I moved into his house to help my sister Mary care for him. I had the night shift. We had a baby monitor in the caretaker bedroom so you could hear him if he was stirring. I would get up when he was restless so he wouldn’t feel lonely. He would just watch me. Even though he didn’t know who I was, he was never afraid of me, because he knew I took care of him.

Tonight he was different, quiet, and his breathing was a little shallower, but he was alert and happy when I walked into his room. The night was dark and still. My brother Michael, who came to spend the night to help out, and my sister, had long gone to bed. I could hear the soft tic-toc of the kitchen clock, and the swoosh of my socks, as I scuffed tiredly along the hard wood floor to his bed. He was fidgeting with his sheet and had it twisted between his hands. My father was used to working with his hands and when his Alzheimer’s got worse we would find him in the middle of the night, with his arms raised, and his hands in the air, busily working on an engine or a boiler in his dreams. This only proved to be a problem in the hospital when his hands would find the tubes or wires attached to his body. It would make for a busy night for us. Lucky for him, and for us, we had decided a month earlier that there would be no more hospital trips, no matter how bad he was. Tonight the lamp by his bedside flooded him with soft golden light. He looked peaceful. I asked him if it was ok if I sat with him for a little while and his bright little smile told me it was ok.

I dragged his rocker to be closer to him, the same rocker he used to rock me to sleep at night when I was a baby. I gently unwound his hands from the twisted sheet and took his hand in mine. His hand was cool to the touch, his skin pale and soft. I smiled gently and looked into his grey tired eyes. I asked him, “Do you know who I am?” He looked at me and replied, “No, I do not,” I explained to him with a quiet, slow voice, with my biggest smile, “I am your baby girl, Katie. You had nine children and I was the very last one.” He then said to me with an inquisitive smile, “Really?” I then continued, “Yes and you know what? You were a really great Dad and you gave me a very happy life. Thank you so much!” I watched as a smile stretched across his face. He asked, “I did?” I grabbed his hand tight and drew my face closer to his and said “Yes, you did.” His face soon softened and he looked more relaxed. A few moments later I watched as he was just about to doze. I heard him sigh, and then he said “I did.” I stood up to tuck him in, and as I kissed his forehead said, “Yes, you did, my love.”

Little did I know when I crawled back into my warm bed that our time with him was now limited to just hours. When I woke an hour later to check him, I realized he was out like a light, but that the bed needed to be changed. But for some reason, I couldn’t move him alone, he was so heavy. I had to call my sister to come over to help me. I hated to wake her. She had been spending the night with Dad alone up until just a few days ago. I knew she needed her rest. But I had to call her. When she arrived, out of breath from running, I never saw fear in my sister’s eyes before, but I am sure she saw it in mine too. We got him as comfortable as possible, as quickly as possible. At this point the sun was slowly starting to come up. I was always relieved to see the sun whenever I did overnight shifts with Dad. I guess it was the relief of having him one more day.

After Dad was comfortable and tucked in we made the necessary calls to family, as we each took turns sitting with him and holding his hand. My sister began to notice he was fidgeting and making a noise. She went to his side and began asking him “What’s going on buck? You ok kid?” he wouldn’t reply. He only made the same noise, and made the same gesture, with his hand under the blanket. My sister lifted the blanket to what he was doing, and then she figured it out. He was trying to start his truck. My father had not driven in years. So my sister said to him, “You trying to start the truck Dad?” My Dad shook his head and kept making that noise, the noise of an engine that wouldn’t turn over. She then asked him, “Dad you sure you got the right key? You need your keys Dad?” My dad nodded his head.

My sister slipped quietly from the room and went into the kitchen to get my Dads keys. My Dad always carried keys even when he was no longer allowed to drive, just as a comfort to him. But over the past weeks my sister had to put the keys on the keyboard because we were having trouble with him putting objects in his mouth. She removed the keys from the keyboard and brought them into him. She slowly raised the sheets and took his hand and placed the keys in his hands. He continued to try and start the truck. He then spoke, he said, “Henry is waiting in the truck for me.” Henry was my Dads old friend that had passed some years ago. My sister and I looked at each other, everything went silent and I could just feel the thud-thud of my heart in my chest, tears built in my throat, my neck burned from holding them back. My sister then said, “Ok Dad, you got the keys now. You can go. Henry’s waiting.” We continued to encourage him and he continued to turn the key to get that truck going. Never did I wish harder for a truck not to start.

Eventually he tired, and fell into a comfortable sleep, his breaths slow and deep. We knew he was ready. We would not be getting him out of bed today. We would not be helping him dress. We would not get to fix him his favorite breakfast, his coffee just right. He would not be singing, we would not be laughing. Family began to arrive. Soon the house was full. My father died later that day in his room surrounded by family, with his keys in his hands. After all, if there was one thing my Dad was known for, it was getting trucks started, especially his red GMC truck.

Blondie Strikes Again!

Well my glorious Friday morning started out splendidly. I stood at the freezing bus stop, with flurries falling on my uncovered head, for a bus that never showed up. I am the type of person that I am not going to wait outside on a major roadway in Braintree for 20 minutes waiting for a bus….because I remember when I had a car, and would drive by bus stops and see people standing there staring off into space, waiting for a stupid bus and I would think….SUCKAS!!!!.....so I try to spend as little time as possible at the bus stop…not to mention the ass wipe truck drivers that honk…for fun….even better when they drive by twice….it makes me want to walk into oncoming traffic.

When the bus finally came I boarded only to find my “bestie”, the double wide, bottle blonde with the mouth that won’t quit!....well that is not entirely true….I did see her stop talking for a few minutes one time on the T when she packed breakfast for the ride….inhaling a sausage, egg and cheese bagel like it was her last train ride…and I wished it was!.....Anyway….there she was sitting in the front side seats that were reserved for the elderly, handicapped and women with children…she was sprawled out like she was at home lounging on the couch, watching a marathon of phantom gourmet….I thought I was safe when I saw her reach for a Metro and she started flipping through the pages….but then her phone rang……………..Grrreeaaat I thought….now there are people who will answer their cell on the bus or train, and talk softly, and maybe even cover their mouth with their hand….ya know so as not to be rude to the other passengers….She is not one of them!......she is one of those attention seeking crazy ass bitches whose face lights up when it rings, and if she had an infant on her lap, she would probably toss him to the ground to ensure getting to the phone before the second ring……so she snatches her phone from her pocket and immediately starts yelling into the phone as she looks around the bus to see if anyone is watching, or listening to her….well this morning she was not too pleased with the conversation that was taking place. I think maybe it was a co-worker because she starting bashing another employee with vigor. She was so friggin’ loud!

Now my outward response to obnoxious cell talkers on the bus or train is what I like to call “the Julie Flanagan stare”…with closed tight lips and clenched teeth and a gaze that could burn through steel, I stared this bitch down….I saw this stare work its wonders many times….mostly on me when I was being "less than angelic", usually when my mom gave me this stare I had time to book it up the stairs to my room before she caught me (by the time she had me she was a lot slower, my older siblings were not so lucky, she smoked like a chimney but could catch my all star football playing brother in seconds flat!)…more often than not this stare was used in church….like whenever Fr. Doran’s homilies ran a little too long…yes, my mother timed homilies….and when they dragged on my mother would use her death stare as her signal to “wrap it up Padre”….well anyway…this blondie wouldn’t quit. She was saying how this bitch Sue was a loser and she probably had STD’s etc. then she would throw in a couple cackles…ya know because she thought she was being hilarious…..I was like are you friggin’ serious? I don’t want to hear “STD’s” spoken so early in the morning…nor do I want to be reminded of it on a Friday when I am praying to Jesus I don’t catch any over the weekend! ……HEY Kristie Alley how about you pipe the F down! We all know that you’re jealous of Sue and her STD’s because your chances of catching any are pretty slim, considering you need to get laid to catch one…unless of course you can catch one from your cat!

World Traveler

The one sucky thing about working in Boston…well let me rephrase that… ONE OF the sucky things about working in Boston is….TOURISTS. I hate em’. Yeah I get it…they are good for the economy, but they are not good for my friggin’ blood pressure. You can spot them a mile away….the European ones are the worst…why you ask?...because they love squirrels and pigeons…..they love to lure these creatures with little rodent treats and then take photos and video them for HOURS!..... do not even think for one second that these tourists are sweet animal lovers…..squirrels and pigeons ARE NOT animals….they are rats in mutant forms….and this TOURIST activity irritates the hell out of me… I am like…hey jetsetters…those are not cute little furry animals….they are rats with furry tails!....What is worse is that they LOVE backpacks…..not like the backpacks you strap on your child before they get on the bus in the morning…but big ass back packs, the size of the small child that you put on the bus in the morning. Usually THESE PEOPLE are only a problem in the Summer, but wait…..there are those HARD CORE tourists….who don’t care about nice weather, they just care about the History of the place blah blah blah. I was lucky enough last night to bump into one of these gems on the train.

As I was standing on the platform praying I wouldn’t have any “guidette” run ins…my train finally arrived…..I got on the last car like I always do..passed through the door only to be denied access by you guessed it!….Mr. World Traveler. There he stood…not IN the door way…but not out of it either….he had positioned himself so perfectly that he blocked part of the door way and…..the aisle…..now you couldn’t get by this guy…why you ask?....because of the Eastern Mountain Sports Super Deluxe Hiking back pack he had strapped to his back….so being the sweet nice woman that I am…I said to him politely “Excuse me” then, “Excuse me Please” then….. I thought to myself this guy apparently suffers from what my mother liked to refer to as “selective hearing”…..I then said it again nice and loud…He stood there…meanwhile there was a line of people behind me trying to get on….which means there were people directly behind me trying to spoon me…..so now I was forced to break not one, but TWO rules…..I had already broken the rule of talking to people on the train….I don’t talk to people on the train even if I know them….my brother could walk on that train and he would not even get as much as a hello from me …the second rule about to be broken….was…..touching…I don’t touch people on the train….well this guy was about to get touched! ….I slowly moved my hand from my pocket and placed it ever so nicely on his EUROPEAN sized back pack and firmly pushed that fucker out of my way…..he was a bit taken aback….looked at me in horror to which my response was……Welcome to Boston pal!

Love on the Red Line

Saw a couple of teenage love birds on the train today. Exactly just want I want to see before my morning coffee. He was looking oh so gangsta in his Sean John Hoodie and his super big White Stag jeans from Walmart…..she was looking oh so attractive in her flannel pajama bottoms and Uggs. I fucking hate Uggs. They were all over each other. I felt like I was in my high school cafeteria all over again…..minus the smell of floor cleaner and sloppy joes. There is nothing worse than PDA…wait..of course there is…but this morning this scene takes the friggin’ cake. HEY Miss (and I stress the Miss) Future Teen Mom why don’t you straddle the guy already and free up a seat! And NO I will not give up my seat for you in nine months when you are on this same train, with a big ass dirty stroller with your screaming snotty ass kid who you ignore as you text your “besties”!