Schizophrenic or Wireless Headset?

It's happened again.

We nearly pissed ourselves last night when this monster of a man came out of the alleyway roaring with what could be construed as laughter - though it sounded more like the laughter of a psychotic person who just finished severing a human limb.

He was mumbling something to himself while pacing our gait just behind us as we progressed down the sidewalk. Thankfully it was a busy street, but hey - in the city, one just never knows.

As we stopped to turn down our sidestreet, he went roaring, grunting and mumbling by. Only then did we realize the dude was wearing a freaking Bluetooth headset and he was actually on the effing phone!

Yeah, so we're wusses. So what! Shattup, you! You're not the boss of us!

He was like, seven feet tall. Like...like a giant and stuff. With huge...er, everything. And the look in his eyes was menacing behind that winter hat / masks that covered most of his face. And the sounds coming out of him were barely human. And...and...and...

*sigh* Sheesh.

What ever happened to the good old days when a person talking to himself was just a garden-variety nutzo?

Nowadays ya can't even tell the difference between someone who is psychotic and someone who just holds odd conversations on a wireless bluetooth headset in public!

Obviously some people agree with me on this and one in particular has a solution:
"We need to issue old, deactivated blue tooths to the homeless."
--ba dum BLOGger

Could be worse...you could be THIS guy:

Elevator Ettiquette Round 1: It goes up and down. Figure it out.

We, like many of you, work in offices.

Offices with people. Big people, little people...regardless of their size, they are annoying. It is especially irritating when one of you peasants interrupts our elevator ride.

The elevator ride up to the office is the last little piece of heaven before we have to open the big steel door and go pony up for "The Man."

So please - don't piss us off so we can hold our shit together until at least 10:00 a.m. and not flip out before our ventigusto machocranberri fraps pump us full of overly-sugared, syrupy, crack a-la legal .

(We know we're cheating a lil' bit since this doesn't apply just to city folk, but we've already had a long day, its only 2:30, and it's either do this or pretend to work. And since they just blocked Scrabulous on our office computers, we're f**cked.)

Ok - we're ready now that we re-aranged all of the action figures on our desk to make sure they are in battle stance (yes we're nerds!).

1.Elevator Occupants Out First!
Hey Mr. Middle Management - we know you are super excited to get to work for another round of severances, but how about you slow down and let the people in the elevator out first before you bum-rush the open doors and practically hump their legs on the way in?

Athough we didn't do well in math and physics, we sure can tell you there's no room for your Stetson-smelling, animal-tie-wearing, pit-stained self in the elevator until the original occupants get out.

And how about giving them some room! Just because you're not running into them doesn't mean you still aren't still being an ass. Give them ROOM to exit. Unless said occupants have personalized jet packs and can fly over your fat ass, move it over!

2. Do not eat in the elevator!
Man oh man - that double stacker tuna casserole sandwich you just bought in the cafeteria sure does look good but how about you keep it in the bag there bucko, rather than opening it on the elevator.

Whatever you do, just keep the god-dammed lunch bag closed. We can already faintly smell the sandwich and hear you smacking your lips in delight as you dream about shoving that artery-clogging monstrosity you call lunch in that cheeto-stained hole on your face.

You can wait the 90 or so seconds it takes to get to your floor and then the addtional 30 seconds it takes to get to your cube to open your lunch. We're certain your co-workers won't be happy about it either, but that is an entirely different blog for later.

Your lunch = your business...but please don't eat in the elevator and make your fellow passengers want to throw you on the ground along with your sandwich wrapper.

3.The elevator is not a clown car!
Yes, elevators have weight capacity guidelines posted on that little inspection sheet in the corner, but that doesn't mean 1200 pounds is the "goal weight" of the elevator!

No, we're not going to weigh you before you get in. Just pay attention to your surroundings and the other people you are getting on the elevator with. The last thing we want is to get stuck on this puppy with Cheeto Face and Sweaty Mid-Management Man for a good hour while they try to get us out with the jaws of life cause we broke the effing elevator.

Elevator Patrick Bateman would use.

If said elevator is too gosh darn full, then wait another two minutes ther, Sparky - you won't die but your double stacker tuna cassarole sandwich may get cold.

Beatings on camera: mis-mannered or felonious?

We're often overwhelmingly aghast at the subjects we need to clarify as mis-mannered. Seriously folks? Beating down some fellow cheerleader and sending her ass to the hospital with an effing concussion and busted eye-sockets?

Bad cheerleader! No Pom-Pon!

Once in a while however, the most serious and dubious of behaviors are underscored by the current event landscape.

This "Cheerleader Ambush Beating" is one such case.

It goes without saying that it is in poor taste to hit people (yes, even cab drivers). But this kind of story underlines an extremely alarming mindset trend:

I'll do anything to be famous.

...which is exactly what these girls wanted. They stated, outright, that the purpose of this beating and video was to post the footage on YouTube.

And why do people post vids of themselves on YouTube? For their 15 minutes of fame. Awfully dastardly aim for a gaggle of effing cheerleaders, no?

Who knew all of those Spirit Finger slips up the spankies were building up such aggression?!

We suggest that aspiring cheer-stars stick to finding the best "flyers" and leave the Spirit Stick to pep rallies, not bludgeonings.

DO:
Uh, rally yer team like, and stuff.

DO NOT:
Effing beat the piss out of each other! Or, if you do, at least make it a fair fight one-on-one.

And c'mon: at least use a damned kiddie pool and some K-Y jelly, for crying out loud.

Click HERE for the full story from this mornings edition of The Today Show.

Full raw video footage found HERE, though it is missing sound for some reason...we're working on finding that.

Suburbanite's Guide to Not Sucking in the City

You stick out like a sore thumb.

Not because of your directionless meanderings, horrific driving or even your disastrous attire (which is comically entertaining). No, you stick out like a sore thumb because we keep coming this close to running into you.

What's with the abrupt stops on the sidewalk? Do you walk around your 'burb like that? Oh yeah. Suburbanites don't walk. We forgot.

That's okay. We understand. After all, there's nowhere to walk to in the suburbs cuz there ain't a damn thing to see or do!

That's why we put together this list of guidelines for you. So you have a simple list for your immensely frustrating forays into metropolitan culture and events.

The Surburbanite's Guide to Not Sucking in the City

Or, How Not to get Shanked by Those You're Driving Crazy with Your Retarded and Aimless Behavior.

1. Learn how to parallel park.

We know there are no curbs in the 'burbs. Or at least very few. But kiddos - you must learn how to effing parallel park!

It's a simple staple of life in the city. Take the damned train if you can't figure it out. That, or trade in your manhood for one of those self-parallel-parking Lexuseses (Lexi?).

2. Take it aside.

If you're walking along on the street with your brood, watch where you're freaking going!

And, for the love of all things holy and true, do NOT stop abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk or street when you realize you don't know where the hell you're going!

Or if you feel like talking to your companions, kindly move out of the way before stopping to converse. It's not rocket-science. It's simple consideration and survival. If you don't want to get tazered, move the hell out of the way. Period.

*Special Thanks to reader Biz on this point. Check out her
spec-freaking-tacular hand-made wares at: http://splendorinthegrass.etsy.com

**Special Shout-Out to the Facebook Group: "I Secretly Want to Punch Slow-Walking People in the Back of the Head." Now there's a group of people we'd like to buy a drink...or six.

3. Take a breather.

You know you have a 45-minute+ drive ahead of you when you're finished with your raucous visit in the city. So please-oh-please-oh-please budget some extra time to sober the hell up before you hop back into your BMW Z4 and put everyone's lives in danger all the way back out to ____ Park or ____ Lake.

4. Don't be That Guy.

You know what we're talking about. And although you'd never admit it. You know when you're being That Guy.

The guy who wears the T-shirt of the band he's about to go see. The guy who not only ogles women who are significantly younger than him (dude, she's sixteen), but also hurls ridiculous comments and pick-up lines toward her and hilariously Chaach-eriffic physical threats toward bouncers, fellow drinkers and, when in the right mood - even your own companions.

Being a chode wasn't even cool in high school. Too bad you never grew out of it. Here's business card for the Hair Club for Men. Kindly go funk yourself.

5. Download Google Maps to your cell phone.

We also know that you're perpetually lost whenever you come to the city. So do yourself a favor and Click Here to visit Google's download page for the mobile version of Google Maps.

This way, you can have an exact map of where you are and where you want to go, as well as easy access to the nearest coffee shop, sushi restaurant or even visual traffic updates. Of course, you could always ask one of us shady hoodlums for directions. But then again: mama always said we city-folk are all bad'uns, now didn't she?

p.s. - Mapquest is a punk-ass chump!

Margaret Foster: Drinking Season Spring Training

Our newest contributing editor Margaret Foster knows a thing or twelve about drinking. Unfortunately (fortunately?) for us, it also means we have to bribe her with booze to keep her at the computer long enough to write her posts.

So without further adieu, allow her Royal Drunkardness to learn you in the ways of Drinking Season Spring Training Tips:

Ease Into It

Jus' cause it's getting warm out, duddn't mean it's all-out crazy-time. If you're a semi-pro, stay home and let us professionals handle this.

Dress The Part

This is the pre-season, kids. I'ss too early for all that billowy, linen-y crap ya'll bought on sale when visiting family in Florida this winter. And NO damn flip-flops, shorts or lil' designer "jackets" that are juss' an extra layer'a stupid.

Start Early

More sunlight means starting earlier so get with the damn program. The program called the Secret Unwritten Drunkness Society (S.U.D.S.) but shhhh, I didn'tt tell ya that.

Park It

And, fer cryin' out loud! Park your stupid car early! You know, deep inside your 'bout-ta-be-booze-filled gut ya shouldn't be drivin later. And that there's no way you really came to meet all these people for "just one drink."

What the hell does "just one" mean anyway? Ol' Marge don't know thaawone. Them's famous lasss words anyways.

Keep it Civ'lized

Er, what does that mean again? Aw crap. I juss like that word. I'sss a funny word, civ'lized. Civ'lized this, civ'lized that...civ'lized all over her drunken cat.

Oh yeah! What I was gonsta say was that I was gonna say not be a jerk if there's no outdoor seating at your chosen water-hole. It's barely over 50 degerees outside, so don't be a whiny bibiach!

...srry I've had a few while typing thissssssssssss 1...

Slow Ride

Like I said to that boy yestaday I says to him, I says:

"boyy! What're ya sixteen er somesuch nonesuch? Put the damned
convertible top back up on on this piece'a piss! Nobody's cares ya gotta
damn convertible. Ain't no car gonna change'a fact thaat'cher ugly!"

Parity Paradox

More fun words! Say 'em ten times fasss and'a next onesson me! All I meants was:

Why the HELL ya readin when ya couldbe drinkinn!?!?

...et that damn keyboard outta my way, I can t reach my drink...

"Atta girl!"

~Margaret Foster

Shadenfreude: To the "People" who Spit Phlegm into the Water Fountain

You make me sick.

There is nothing more disgusting than going to get a drink of water and seeing your slop stuck in the drain holes.

My left eyeball does not want to be one inch from your throat goo. Spit it into the garbage, or a napkin, ANYWHERE but the water fountain – or I will have no choice but to rape your children.

What convinces someone to do this anyway?

Do you not notice your neck mud until you go for a sip? Do you consciously seek this area out as a receptacle? Either way, what you are doing is horribly wrong.

Just because something looks like a drain doesn't mean you can toss your hazmat slime onto it.

Do you poop in the shower? Do you piss in the kitchen sink? Why do you deposit your slop in the same basin where we have to put our faces to get life-sustaining liquid?

You should have been aborted. Period.

That Pregnant Woman Deserves a Seat More Than You.

That lady with a big tummy? Yeah, she's pregnant.

She could probably use a seat. Your seat. In fact, we'd go so far as to insist that unless you are disabled in some way (Chaach Gene overdrive doesn't count), you should give her your seat.
We know. No, we get it. You were there first, it's rightfully yours, yadda yadda, blah blah.

There's one simple response to every excuse: don't be a dick!
...Dick.

This is a tough one because it requires actual, physical awareness of one's surroundings. Apparently, this is quite a lot to ask of some folks.



But while you're zoning out your sea of newspapers, magazines, messenger bags, laptops and/or iPod earbuds, you should really be aware of what is going on around you.

That's just good advice for anyone, anywhere. If some shady character enters your bus or your train (tube?!) car, you should know about it just in case. It's a matter of personal safety.

Well that slightly round woman is definitely a shady character.
She's definitely hiding something.

Could it be the devil-spawn slowly forming in her womb? The morning sickness she's ready to distribute if she stands for five more minutes? Her utter contempt for the man who did this to her? The bubbling, festering rage burning just below the blank face and slight smile?

No comment.

We don't know and hell, we don't wanna know! Neither do you, so just get up and offer your seat if you know what's good for you. Trust us.

DO:
Give up your seat to child-bearers (womb-tastic, infantile, and toddler-iffic alike) the elderly, the handicapped and the utterly, unbearably psychotic.

DO NOT:
Be selfish and ignore someone in need simply because you were there first. Call it Karma. Call it good will toward mankind. Hell call it effing "Suzy" if you want! Whatever you call it. Just move.