2007..... Ahoy!

It's been a while since I've blogged. I feel sort of bad about it. It's a new year. Let's see if I can get it right this time.

I had all of these grand ideas to write a celebriliscious entry today. I was going to do a little feature on our favorite trainwreck, Ms. Britney Spears. We'll save that for the next post. Today, It's all about ME!

ME ME ME!

NYC is great. It's great to be back and settled. I am currently working for a large corporation. It's fine.

I'm makin the benjis, feelin good. Makin connections with music. It's going really well. Blah blah blah.

But come on folks, we all know that this is not what I am here to talk about. I'm here to degrade my atmosphere. So let's get to it!

I was on the subway, riding home from work today, and looking rather handsome if I do say so myself.

And I do.

So I got on the train and got a seat which normally I wouldn't be so super-jazzed about, but I think I might have some sort of bone spur in my foot (most likely caused by the super stylish, yet wretchedly unsupportive shoes I have been whoring out for the past 3 months) so sitting down was quite a treat. I took a look around and realized...

I Y riding the subway in NYC!

It is FULL of freaks, such as:

1) The Crackhead.


This is a person with two toofs and 5 hairz (that's pretty much all they have) who insists on telling everyone the story about the day they scratched a winning lottery ticket and the cashier stole it from them, resulting in their current life situation.

This lovable mess would happily spend their last 6 dollars on a Jamba Juice since, as we all know, it is the most vitamin packed substance on the planet... next to crack, of course. Oh, by the way, Mr./Ms. Crackhead also owns stock in Jamba Juice and they will tell you all about that next time you get on the Bronx Bound 5 train at dinner time. Maybe you can get in on it.

The crackhead is usually swathed in repugnant synthetics and/or extremely over-used designer clothing from the 90s. The sweatshirt (DKNY or a large white tee if Male, BEBE if Female) has lots of unidentifiable brown and white sploches on it. The pants (GIRBAUD men's jeans for both the Males and Females) are usually the main culprits in contributing to the terrible scents that follow The Crackhead around. Their nails stretch three inches off of the tips of their dry fingers which are fiercely bound around the handles, one each of Bloomingdale's, Prada and Conway shopping bags.



2) The Nell Carter.

Now obviously this isn't THE Nell Carter we all know and love. Just an archetype... Nell provides herself nicely as a point of reference. A "point" of giant proportions. (You probably think I am referring to her weight. You should be ashamed of yourselves! You are Cruel, Sad individuals.) Although ol' Nelly could probably easily beat star jones at a baby-eating contest, I am actually referring to the only thing larger than her waistline: her MOUTH. The Nell Carter is the GIANT WOMAN on the train who just can't seem to speak loudly enough. Apparently her disillusionment with Eddie Murphy's recent flubs with the trannies and Spice Girl impregnation is SO IMPORTANT that she thinks you need to hear about it all, LOUD AND CLEAR.



It's such a shame... she used to think he was such a charming man. What nice teeth. And he was such a funny guy in those Nutty Professor films. Much better than that white man in the original movie.


3) The Vincent Gallo.

Since I live near Williamsburg, the trendoid capital of the universe, I was bound to run into a few of these pompus sons-of-cocksuckers. Typically fairly unsatisfactory-looking, the Vincent Gallo swabs the 8pm Canarsie bound L train with a fine coat of over-compensation that has 3 very specific effects:

-attracts girls who are too pretty for The Vincent Gallo
-angers/annoys Puerto Ricans and African Americans
-confuses gay hipster boys

Vincent feeds off of said effects as they prove to Vincent how provocative Vincent is. This is the mainstay of this psuedo-rebel. Well... this and his predictable wardrobe. Vinny-boy is usually wearing an important hat, a scarf-cum-ascot (most likely from urban outfitters), a stylish jacket, skinny black jeans, and the kicker, the ironic shoes.
These shoes are the key to the Vincent Gallo's powers. They are the accesibility... the way in. They are the soft spot in his heart for the boy in himself. He's always liked Vans and Chukkas, so when he found this hybrid, he went and grabbed a pair. They smell like swiss cheese.



4) The I'mSoPretty.

You ALL know this bitch. It's the girl who gets on the train with a Birkin bag and her Oliver Peoples sunglasses on and expects everyone to look at her.. and when they don't we all get treated with a big fat SIGH, COCK HIP, CHANGE HANDS ON POLE, BLOW AIR OUT OF BOTTOM LIP UP TOWARD HAIR, WATCH CHECK, PIVOT, CELL CHECK, PIVOT, QUIET "ouch!" UNDER BREATH, PICK AT NAILS, SIGH. (This repeats until the stop before The I'mSoPretty exits the Train... this is when she walks over to the door that she is planning on making her grand exit out of to use the reflection in the window to check her face. Timing is important, though, as she can only see herself whilst in the tunnels or what she refers to as "when it's black.")

The I'mSoPretty scoffs at anyone who touches her unless that person is an older white woman (jews dont count unless they are hella upper-east side rich), or a man who's penis she is interested in putting inside of her uptight vagina.