Last night on the train I had the joy of standing next to three truly awful people. (I should start a blog about terrible people on the eL. I would have to post thrice daily.) Anyhow, these gals were drunk and loud and ornery; the trifecta of transit (which would be a good name for a band.) One of them managed to say the phrase "I made SO much pasta salad" no less than eight times. She repeated the same story and the words "pasta salad" so often that I feared she either had Turrets or was indeed Rain Man. The best part was when her friend (who had been leaning bodily on the plexiglass divider- ew ew EW) remembered that her pal was intolerant to gluten and asked, "So what did you do with all of the EXTRA PASTA IN YOUR HOUSE?" 'Oh," her friend nonchalantly replied. "I made a ton of pasta salad." And the third clued us in (by shouting into her cell) about the dude and his girlfriend that she "...almost slapped 'cause they were all like 'what." What? What were they like? Did they bring a side dish of their own? And they were all rather large members of society. Which is completely fine. Unless you also believe you're ridiculously hot and that somehow allows for your inability to speak in hushed tones. (And if you think about it, even the gals on The Hills- of which I can only distinguish from seeing magazine covers, truly, I may be thinking of the wrong show- aren't allowed that sort of activity without scathing repercussions. And they are tiny humans.) Even worse, they shoved and elbowed an elderly man and his wife! (The large trio, not the girls on The Hills. I don't keep tabs on them.) Sit your big pasta salad bum down, I felt like saying! But instead I wrote a post, which I really think is better for everyone in the long run. They were spared the public shame and I was able to keep my fear of confrontation under wraps.
And hi to Olivia! The way to a girl's heart is to post on her Facebook wall extolling the virtues of her blog. You already know that, of course, being so smart and all. (But we are totally evenly matched in Scramble, so don't get too comfy.)
Time to go rock the Spidey Slip n' Slide! Answering, of course, the age old question: What do you DO all day at work? (Probably the same as you, only damper.)
2 comments:
Sit your big pasta salad bum down.. is probably the funniest thing I have heard today, thank kew. And beaver fever was what you got when you drank the water that the beaver's pooped in.. giardiarsis.. blech.. yellow medicine and all, Mom, Rachel and Em..
but we are fine now, totally.
Ewwww giardiasis. It's mentioned in Red Light Winter I think. The play.
Last week I was headed down to Pilsen for a party and I was on a bus with a half dozen of the stupidest teenage girls ever (I realize this may be redundant, but there you go). They got on at Roosevelt or something and every time we got to a stop going south, one of them would say loudly, "God, this is just the WORST neighborhood EVER." or "Whew! This is totally the ghetto!" or other cringe-inducing marmelardia. The people getting off at each stop, ie. the ghetto residents, would sort of sigh, look at the floor, etc., but all I wanted to do was wave my arms and silently apologize on behalf of white people, or smart people, or something. God it sucked.
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