Your mother was wrong--you're just not that special

That's right--you're not special.

You and that damn walkie-talkie phone of yours.

Grown man with a contraption what makes you look
like you're ten years old (why don't you string two cans together
and have the conversation; it would seem more dignified).

Oh, how about the Bluetooth idiots? The loudmouths with the
blue/silver beetles hanging on, looking like a hearing aid.
Carrying on--like your phone call is so important.

First, use your inside voice. Second--your call to the office
isn't the call to the red phone, ok? Talking into space makes you look
mental.

If I'm going to sit next to a nut--fine, just make sure he's
got his tin foil hat on (preferably talking about Jesus or JFK;
I can never get enough of a good conspiracy theory).

One good technology bit--woman sitting next to me was watching Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. No Caddyshack, but still funny.

On behalf of the passengers, please turn off the noise

My morning commute:
Train packed to the rafters. Stand? Guess so.
Oh, look a seat--of course the guy sitting in one of them
has his legs splayed out like he's something special;
well,tough luck, bucko--I'm sitting down. Cram my frame into
that cushiony seat. AHHH... time to relax... until guess what
happens?

Two women/two guys sitting across from me start the morning
'entertainment'. All of them blabbing away; laughing, stomping
their feet, cursing up a storm (what were they talking about?).
Don't know, but it had a lot to do with f@#k, s%$t, mother... you get it.
You would think that's enough--no, not yet.

They decide it's time for the musical portion of the show--simultaneously, they pull out the cell phones. The usual assortment of rap/R&B horseshit and one of them actuallyrecorded a song on her phone (off key with the sound quality similar to one who would sing into a paper towel roll). OOOH--Beyonce--watch out! She proceeded to play the song over and over again, especially her little rap part.
Now, as you can guess, everbody on this train is a little annoyed; everyone waiting for someone to say something.

I could tell some glanced over to me as if to say 'young lady you have nothing to lose--sacrifice your health and some teeth and tell those people to hush'.
Sorry bud; I've been down this road before--I suffer you suffer.

By a stroke of luck or the hammer of the gods, an actual conductor came by
told them to turn off the music. They did after much grumbling (after Mr. Conductor exited the car, they gave one more performace of the
song in a cappella). All this AND the woman sitting next to me had wicked B.O.

Good morning indeed.

Hey kids--Easter's here!

Oh, I do love this time of year.

Bunnies a hoppin'; Christ a risin'.

There's something about a chocolate bunny with those l'il yellow eyes and carrot noses and
cute l'il names like Sunny ,Honey, Funny (and of course the one that's the cheap
store brand that looks crosseyed and more like a jackrabbit).

All of this insulin raising goodness that turns me into a wide eyed l'il kitty (BLINK - BLINK, think about it, it's cute).

Oh my days of youth; all my cares were tied to what PAAS food
coloring to use on my eggs: pink, blue, ohh now it's purple--now let's use crayons; wait--now it's cracked--next.

(nobody ever eats the eggs anyway; blue egg with a green yolk = tasty)

My favorite Easter story? It's the one where my mom allowed me to get a
comic book. I pick the one with the Bunny on the cover, bypassing
the fact it had the SCARY comic book title.

The l'il rabbit lured children into his factory, dipped them in chocolate,
and bit their heads off. Read this--couldn't sleep for days.

So pull out your Easter bonnets, take out those chocolate rabbits, rip the
heads clean off and think of me.




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