I am not opposed to PDA (public displays of affection--just, so we're all clear). A little kiss on the cheek or lips, the holding of hands, sitting on laps, wrapping arms around each other--that's fine. I don't mind it, I don't feel it's inappropriate, and I'm actually probably jealous that I'm not involved. I do not, however, condone PDA when it involves making out with excessive slurping and smacking noises while at a bus stop and standing in the direction of where the bus is coming from, thus forcing people to look at your inappropriate public kissing if they want to see if the bus is a-comin'.
I kept my peace, praying that the bus would arrive soon, and was relieved when it did.
Imagine my disappointment when the couple going for the PDA 2012 Award got on the bus after me. They didn't resume their noisy kissing . . . this time it was much worse.
They remained standing, the man leaning against a bar that ran from the floor to the ceiling, and the woman leaned her butt into his crotch and started moving it back and forth. All of which was done in my periphery and in front of the rear exit door.
I should've . . . made a loud sexual moaning noise and then said, "Oh, yeah! That's sooooo hot! Yeaaaaaaah! I love how you two are just in your own little worrrllld--it's like you're not even aware that people can see you! Whooo! So hot! Look at this hotness, everyone! Isn't it so HOT?! Don't stop, baby! Keep working it! Yeah! And you, sir, are one lucky man! Mmmm! Mm-mm-mm-mm! HOT!"
27 February 2012
15 February 2012
(#29) The "Xena Yelp" I Should've
I went to have my taxes done yesterday. The service was prompt and the people who helped me were very friendly. They got me a lot back (around $1,600). There was one little thing that felt very strange to me.
One of the women was named Xena. You know, like the warrior princess who ran around some mystical forest and made strange yelping noises.
I should've . . . jumped onto the desk and did that strange Xena yelp whenever someone said her name (which was quite often).
One of the women was named Xena. You know, like the warrior princess who ran around some mystical forest and made strange yelping noises.
I should've . . . jumped onto the desk and did that strange Xena yelp whenever someone said her name (which was quite often).
08 February 2012
(#28) The "Stop Faking!" I Should've
I am starting to suspect that I cause seizures. I can now say that I have encountered three different people having seizures. The first was while I was at someone's house, another was while I was in a class during my undergrad, and tonight it was while I was on the bus.
I didn't really know what was going on at first. I was just minding my own business when the bus stopped and a lady started freaking out. Of course, I turned towards the commotion and saw a man slumped in a seat and shaking uncontrollably. It was very obvious that he was having a seizure. Being a veteran of such situations, I wasn't too concerned. No one's died on me, yet.
Since the driver had conveniently opened the doors, I ended up jumping off the bus and walking the rest of the way home. I felt kind of bad just leaving, but there wasn't anything I could do. 911 had been called, people were tending to Mr. Shakey, and the bus wasn't going to be moving anytime soon.
Thinking about it, what I should've done was . . . push my way to the front of the bus, shouting "Calm down! Calm down! He does this all the time!" and then stood over the seizing man, shook my finger in his face, and yelled "Stop faking! You're embarrassing me! Why do you always do this?!" I then would have begun to sob and then jumped off the bus and ran into the night.
I didn't really know what was going on at first. I was just minding my own business when the bus stopped and a lady started freaking out. Of course, I turned towards the commotion and saw a man slumped in a seat and shaking uncontrollably. It was very obvious that he was having a seizure. Being a veteran of such situations, I wasn't too concerned. No one's died on me, yet.
Since the driver had conveniently opened the doors, I ended up jumping off the bus and walking the rest of the way home. I felt kind of bad just leaving, but there wasn't anything I could do. 911 had been called, people were tending to Mr. Shakey, and the bus wasn't going to be moving anytime soon.
Thinking about it, what I should've done was . . . push my way to the front of the bus, shouting "Calm down! Calm down! He does this all the time!" and then stood over the seizing man, shook my finger in his face, and yelled "Stop faking! You're embarrassing me! Why do you always do this?!" I then would have begun to sob and then jumped off the bus and ran into the night.
01 February 2012
(#27) The "Fly Away, Little Bird" I Should've
Back in my pre-Boston days, when I was the happy owner of a burgundy 1990 Buick Century (move over, Grandma, I'm driving!), I was known to have an unhealthy amount of road rage. But that road rage seems to have mutated into sidewalk rage as I have become an avid pedestrian in the big city.
Boston can get so cluttered with people on the sidewalks and especially underground in the T stations. And it seems that I always get stuck behind the short and/or old people who walk very, very slowly. I end up getting very frustrated, even if I'm not in a particular hurry. I just hate having to walk slow.
Today, I found myself in such a predicament, a very short woman with a backpack was waddling in front of me and there was no way to get around her because of all the other people standing around.
I should've . . . picked up this very short woman from under her arm pits, whispered "Fly away, little bird!", and tossed her aside like a rag doll into the crowd on either side of us, knocking several people over as I continued on at my normal walking speed, laughing maniacally. Certainly, another short person would have witnessed this, and I would've pointed to them and said "You're next if you don't watch it!" in my best impersonation of Sean Connery.
Boston can get so cluttered with people on the sidewalks and especially underground in the T stations. And it seems that I always get stuck behind the short and/or old people who walk very, very slowly. I end up getting very frustrated, even if I'm not in a particular hurry. I just hate having to walk slow.
Today, I found myself in such a predicament, a very short woman with a backpack was waddling in front of me and there was no way to get around her because of all the other people standing around.
I should've . . . picked up this very short woman from under her arm pits, whispered "Fly away, little bird!", and tossed her aside like a rag doll into the crowd on either side of us, knocking several people over as I continued on at my normal walking speed, laughing maniacally. Certainly, another short person would have witnessed this, and I would've pointed to them and said "You're next if you don't watch it!" in my best impersonation of Sean Connery.
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