April 26, 2007

Panic! On the Sidewalk

Monday morning's weather was beautiful as I set out for work. I put a happy song on my iPod and set out from my building on my five block stroll to the subway station.

I'm a pretty fast walker, so it wasn't long before I started to overtake modest, little woman walking in the same direction. I was abreast of her as we reached an intersection, she scampered across the street ahead of me. I took no real notice of this apart to think to myself, "There aren't any cars coming. There's no need to worry." And I proceeded on my way.

She was perhaps 5' 6", wearing a matronly outfit of dark blue slacks, comfortable-looking black shoes, a blue cardigan, and a white blouse. She struck me as the sort of woman who might be an elementary school teacher but her career could not have been long judging from the lack of significant gray in her hair. I gauged her age to be in her mid- to late-30's.

It wasn't long before I was less than a half dozen strides from passing her again. This time we were midway along the block when she scampered ahead of me again. I thought this was strange.

Not even a quarter of a minute later, I was noticing my shadow that the sun was casting on the sidewalk ahead of me. I watched my shadow run along the shop fronts past this little woman as I caught up to her again. Again, she took off in her stiff-legged trot to get ahead of me.

I caught up with her a fourth time and she did it again, this time dodging around other pedestrians.

I am 6' 2" tall and over 180 lbs. I'm fair of hair and skin. My build reads as slim to athletic. While I'm not a small person, I also don't present a very imposing figure. Any gravitas I bring due to my bearing usually comes from the fact that I have a rather firm set to my jaw and a somewhat grim, unblinking look. Nevertheless, this woman was running from me.

Naturally, I thought this was funny. I could barely contain my laughter.

Here we are: two pedestrians, walking down the sidewalk in the morning sun with other pedestrians, and this woman is dead-set on either getting away from me or merely getting ahead of me.

I couldn't be sure of her objective, but that didn't stop me from speeding up my pace so that I could catch up with her even more quickly.

She never let me get ahead, though. She started running for greater and greater distances to allow her more time to walk.

We repeated the process more than a half dozen times before we reached the subway stairs. She mounted first and I was a three or four strides behind her. She didn't look at me as she climbed the stairs and I walked beside them to reach the entrance. She was only seven or eight steps ahead of me on the stairs when I began taking them two at a time.

In no time I was close enough to where I had to slow to her pace to keep from hitting her when I brought my knee up to take the next step. I couldn't pass her due to traffic coming down the stairs, so I contented myself with simply looming over her from behind.

She went to one side of the platform and I proceeded to the other. My train was waiting when I got to the top, so I didn't even get to see her from across the tracks.

I still don't know what she was doing, but I thought it was a very fun game to chase this mousy little school marm to the subway station on Monday. And the weather couldn't have been more perfect for the diversion either.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 02:18 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

April 25, 2007

Blog-Celebrity Sighting!

I think Michael Hartney was working out at my gym with me last night!

Michael Hartney is the proprietor of So I Like Superman, a blog about comic books, comics, life in New York, and big, gay men. I like it because Hartney is quite a wit and cuz he's a red-head. I like red heads.

Last night, I was working out with my trainer and we walked past the subject several times. I gawked a little because I am absolutely TERRIBLE at recognizing faces. His being a red head with a beard is what made me think of Michael Hartney.

I wanted to say hello but I was in the middle of a work out and so was he. I did see him in the locker room, but by the time I was heading to the showers, he was already getting dressed to leave and that was the last I saw of him.

So, anyway, that was my brush with that one particular red-headed bear blogger from Astoria. Woo!

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 08:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 24, 2007

A Few More of My Pet Peeves

- When someone takes their food out of the microwave early and fails to clear out the remaining time.

- When I'm on a call with someone and I say, "I'm going to send out meeting notes to the group" and then that someone calls me back to ask, "Would you copy me on that email with the notes?"

- When I explain something to someone and they claim to understand it, but then find themselves unable to repeat my explanation to anyone else. That is the hallmark of not understanding.

- When people call me on the telephone from their cube five feet away after repeated explanations that my phone is broken and answering it requires donning my headset only to find out that they want me to get up and come to their desk.

- When people leave me voice mails and then send me emails that say the same exact thing. Just say, "Hey, since you're not there, so I'm going to send you an email." Or, better still, don't leave a message at all and just send the email.

- When people call meetings for me to explain what is written in a document I spent a week composing and editing for them.

- When people call meetings for me to explain what I've explained to them several times already in informal meetings and emails.

- When people fail to identify the subject of their discussion and send me emails that simply say, "What do you think?" I always think, "About what? Your font is pretty and your punctuation seems more or less well-situated."

- When people randomly call me or walk up to my desk and expect me to drop what I'm doing to talk to them about their project.

- When people randomly call me or walk up to my desk and expect me to drop what I'm doing to work on their projects instead of the one I was working on when they called or arrived.

- When people come up to my desk (or call) to ask me if I've read the email they just sent.

- When people come up to my desk (or call) to ask me if I've read any email they sent.

- When people come up to my desk or call. Really. Let's just be honest. I kind of don't like when people do that at all.

- When people ask me to do their work for them.

- When people ask me to explain their work to them so they can do it. (Where is their manager?)

- When it takes three days to explain to someone what I want in spite of having sent them examples, had meetings, and done everything except complete the task themselves.

- When someone writes me an email asking me to email someone else the contents of their email.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 12:42 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 23, 2007

Get This

Remember the Frenchman? He's the rocket scientist dude I went on a few dates with and at first he was very thoughtful and affectionate and suddenly he stopped being like that. At first, I thought it was just a mood and I decided to give him a little more time. But after a few more dates where I was the one doing the asking and the complimenting and the wooing, I decided enough is enough and I just let him go.

At the time I thought that perhaps I should just come out and ask him about it, but we had been on so few dates and had no conversations about the direction of the budding/decaying relationship that I thought better of it. I didn't want my first conversation about the possibility of a relationship to be, "Why don't we ever talk?"

I'm a crazy person in romance, yes, but not THAT crazy.

So, a couple of weeks have gone by since I've seen or heard from him. I just figured it was over.

Well, he wrote me an email last night saying that he guesses that I must not be interested in him.

Doubleyoo Tee Eff?

I wrote back like, "I thought you weren't interested in me!" yadda yadda yadda

Anyway, we'll see what he says. I don't know if this lunacy is worth the effort.

I think if we do decide to go out again I'm going to wind up being far more "communicative" about these things.

Boys are such weirdos. If they weren't so adorable, I really don't think they would be worth the bother.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 08:06 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 21, 2007

Three and counting!

If any of you have seen me without my shirt on (and if you've been reading this blog, you have) you'll note that I don't have any chest hair.

That's not quite true. For the longest time, I have had TWO chest hairs.

One of them grows about three inches south of my collar bone, slightly to the left of the cleft between my [bulging] pectoral muscles.

The second grows about one inch below my [rock hard] left pectoral muscle.

Totally random.

Well, I have found a THIRD chest hair. It was about two inches south of my collar bone and off to the right.

Soon, Hugh Jackman will be driven insane with jealousy over my manly, chest pelt that he can't help but run his hands all over me... and do other stuff, too, including but not limited to smooching.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 08:54 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 20, 2007

Roommate Problem

When I got into the shower this morning, I noticed that water wasn't draining from the tub. When I looked at the drain, I discovered that the drain was full of hair.


Apparently, my roommate decided to shave his pubic hair at some point last night and did not clean up after himself and so, unless I wanted to stand in water blocked by said hair, I had to clean it up this morning.

Not cool.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 07:00 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

April 17, 2007

Suicide Attempt

So, this evening, I was sitting here watching television and chatting and reading/writing on the internet. And my ex-boyfriend, the Good Doctor, IMed me to tell me that he's being sued.

You see, he's a doctor, and there is some malpractice suit looming over him. Based on what he's told me, he doesn't need to worry much about it, but he's a worrier. He said he had lots of problems he was worried about.

So, we were discussing it and he was basically just bemoaning his bad fortune. I applied several different approaches to convincing him that he could manage these problems, but he wouldn't hear of it.

He probably wanted me to commiserate, but his worries were rapidly spiraling to general self-loathing.

And we're chatting and he starts talking about how he contemplates suicide.

At first it was very vague, distant, and not present, but as the discussion progressed, he brought the threat more to the present. I kind of thought it was a joke, because he jokes like that sometimes.

But he kept with it and I started thinking he was serious.

Near the end of our conversation, I became firmly convinced that he was serious.

[22:09] The Good Doctor: yeah, well I'm at the near terminus of my life, and wish to bid all those friends along the way adieu

[22:09] Flibby: No, you're not.
[22:09] Flibby: Seriously, stop talking like that.
[22:09] Flibby: You aren't near the end of your life.
[22:09] Flibby: And you should not consume alcohol, ever.
[22:10] Flibby: Particularly when you're stressed like this.

[22:10] The Good Doctor: alcohol saved my life tonight

[22:10] Flibby: You need to call your therapist or something.

[22:10] The Good Doctor: and the valium
[22:11] The Good Doctor: well I just want to to remember the good times we had and how much I appreciated our friendhip
[22:11] The Good Doctor: etc

[22:11] Flibby: You know I hate mushy shit like that.
[22:11] Flibby: Stop being moribund and call your therapist.
[22:12] Flibby: Tell him that you've been drinking alcohol AND taking valium.

[22:12] The Good Doctor: lots of valium

[22:12] Flibby: Are you serious?
[22:12] Flibby: How much valium?

[22:12] The Good Doctor: about 6 of them

[22:12] Flibby: Because I will dial 911 and send them to your house.

[22:13] The Good Doctor: it's cool, valium is very weak

[22:13] Flibby: which you've combined with alcohol.
[22:13] Flibby: And you're in an emotional state in which your judgment on such matters is impaired.

[22:13] The Good Doctor: ha, it's the plastic bag over the head that does you in

[22:14] Flibby: I'm not joking with you.
[22:14] Flibby: I'm going to dial 911.

[22:14] The Good Doctor: well you can do it, but I'm not at home

[22:14] Flibby: Where are you?

[22:15] The Good Doctor: undsiclosed location in Atlanta
[22:15] The Good Doctor: I just need some sleep
[22:15] The Good Doctor: I 've been crying all alfternoon

[22:15] Flibby: So, it won't hurt for me to send cops to your house.
[22:15] Flibby: What's your address again?

[22:15] The Good Doctor: not gonna happen
[22:16] The Good Doctor: fucking worthless life I lead
[22:17] The Good Doctor: oh well, no sense bugging you about it, you will have a wonderful life, I'm sure

[22:17] *** "The Good Doctor" signed off at Tue Apr 17 22:17:57 2007.

First, I called 911 here in New York and asked to be connected to Atlanta 911. They informed me that they are not information but emergency services.

Can I complain for a second about the inability of emergency service systems not being able to reach one another quickly and easily? In this day and age of telecommunications, this befuddles me.

So, I googled Atlanta Georgia Emergency 911. That produced no helpful results.

Finally, I dialed 411 and asked to be connected to emergency services in Atlanta and they got it right.

What an ordeal.

Anyway, I gave them all of his information (I had his address on hand.) and they said they would dispatch police and ambulance services to his house.

We'll see if I ever hear from him again. If I do, we're not friends any more.

Update: I got a text message from him just now (Wednesday, lunchtime) saying he's ok.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 09:55 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 16, 2007

Beautiful Weekend

Yesterday, NYC got a record amount of rain. At nearly six inches, it was the most rain the city had seen in a 24 hour period in the last 124 years.

My weekend started with a nice, relaxing evening. I went with my friend to the movies. She and I saw one of the worst movies ever made: The Pathfinder. That made for some laughs over dinner afterward.

Then, on Saturday, I hung out with another friend of mine who offered to lend me his and his husband's apartment in Miami for my birthday. See, I mentioned to him that since it will be my 30th birthday, I want to take a little trip somewhere to celebrate. Someplace with a beach and sunshine and it would be nice if my friends would accompany me. And so he said I could stay there if I wanted.

Since his birthday is that month as well, I said, "We should make it a celebration for both of us!" So, it looks like I will be traveling with them for a long weekend some time in September for a little time at the beach in celebration of my 30th trip around the sun.

As mentioned, yesterday did naught but rain, so I spent the day in bed reading and watching television. It was wonderfully restful.

I actually love the rain. It's my favorite weather.

Most people think of rain as being dreary and dismal and surely it does strike me that way if it goes on for many days on end.

But for the most part rain is to me energizing. I especially love thunderstorms -- although those aren't all that frequent here in New York. Rain reminds me of getting clean and refreshed. It makes me think of beginnings and new possibilities. So, I like the rain.

And, on top of it all, I wasn't on the internet all weekend long, which is an amazing thing for me.

All in all, it was a great weekend.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 09:47 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

April 13, 2007

What's Going On?

I started a new schedule this week that involves working out in the morning before work and then, two days a week, working out twice a week after work. Summer is coming, so I need to get ready if I intend to nurse the vice of vanity on a beach somewhere.

That is totally my plan for my 30th birthday this year.

Work has been nuts. I'm not sure why, but a lot of things have been going on. Meetings, conference calls, lots of silly questions and time-wasting conversations, a moderate level of productivity.

And since Frenchie is out of the picture, my love life is back to square one. Not a bad thing at all. The frustration of that experience has somewhat lessened my enthusiasm for a relationship or even dating. But assuming the mood strikes me again, I remain positive about the prospect that there is at least one suitable mate out there for me.

That's about it. I haven't had a whole lot of time for other things and when I've had free time, I haven't felt like blogging much.

And so that's that.

Talk to you later!

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 10:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 10, 2007

A Rant About Manners

This discussion has been brewing in comments for a couple of days now. Review the beginning here.

I hope to make my position on this matter clear in this post and put the item to rest. This post started as a comment response to reader Britton's comment on this second post on the topic.

He said:

She would probably not have moved if you called her a fucking idiot though. Just saying. Not that she would have been any less "wrong" but it wouldn't have solved anything to be rude.

I started my response with this:

Why on earth would I have said that to her, though? She wasn't being a "fucking idiot."

You're failing to see the distinction between an honest mistake and a grotesque disregard for one's surroundings.

Let's continue.

The first case doesn't actually bother me very much as long as the person in error moves politely to correct their error. For example, those cases where someone doesn't see or hear me approaching them from behind on the sidewalk and they bump or drift into me. Yes, these things annoy me, but only a little bit and "excuse me" usually resolves

Or maybe two people are chatting and they take to standing side-by-side on the escalator and don't notice me walking up behind them and have no reason to expect that anyone might be approaching them. Again, "excuse me."

Another case are those where someone is attempting to navigate the subway with a babystroller or large bag. This cannot be avoided. They have to manage these things and as long as they remain conscientious of the fact that they are, in fact, taking up more space than everyone else. Polite people in this situation usually beg forgiveness from those they inconvenience. "Oh, that's ok. I understand."

Now consider all those other cases I listed in the previous comment thread.

These are the same people who leave their candy wrappers and cups in the movie theater. These people litter. They stop to talk to their friends in a narrow hall or doorway. They stop short on busy sidewalks. They walk to the front of long lines and pretend to be confused when someone tells them to go to the back -- but sometimes they're successful in cutting in line. They're people who drive slowly in the left lane. They're people who speed up to keep others from passing. They talk loudly on their cellphone in stores and elevators. They're people who wait for 10 minutes in line at McDonald's and still don't know what they want when they get to the cashier.

They're rude. Their lack of due attention to those around them is so outrageous that "fucking idiot" is perhaps the most polite thing I can say to describe them.

A tourist stopping suddenly on the sidewalk is blatant discourtesy, but as has been pointed out, really of minor consequence.

What about the person who slams on their brakes suddenly on a rainy street because they missed their turn? I was in a collision once because someone did that. Granted, it was legally my fault because I was following too closely (I was actually accelerating in order to pass) but their disregard was a physical danger to those around them. Studies show that people on cell phones present a similar danger on the road for the same exact reason.

The problem is that these people are not paying a due amount of attention to what's going on around them.

Courtesy isn't merely a luxury. As I've mentioned, it's a set of rules that allow us to navigate social situations without conflict and often times safely.

The foundation of courtesy is conscientiousness. This means that you have to be aware of where you are and those around you.

We cannot demand omniscience or infallibility. Mistakes happen. Misunderstandings happen. We straight those out with civil conversation.

But when there is no demonstration of even basic conscientiousness and no extenuating circumstances are plausible, how should you respond? It's up to you. The good thing about these rules is that there is no mandate that you must respond in any way at all. You might ignore them. You might attempt to excuse them to others. You might ask them to pay closer attention. You might confront them for their lapse. You might call them a fucking idiot if that's your style.

I am personally a huge fan of talking loudly about how rude the person is. Those of you who know me, know what I mean.

In all cases, let the context be your guide, but I advocate pretty much any action that will bring the offender any level of awareness to their offense.

Note: I think attempting to actually educate these morons is futile. Attempting to explain what courtesy is and why they should be more conscientious will undoubtedly fall on deaf ears. The objective is much more short-range: make them aware of merely the fact that they are in error. Further discussion beyond that should be just for your amusement or that of those around you.

This is why merely saying "excuse me" strikes me as being insufficient to the task. (Of course, your own circumstances may not permit anything more.)

I find myself ranting frequently about this problem of people failing to pay attention and my kindhearted friends always say things like, "Flibby! They didn't know!"

My rebuttal is usually that they SHOULD have known. And those are the cases I'm talking about.

How could you possibly be unaware of the fact that you're walking down a busy sidewalk? The fact is that if you aren't aware of this, you're a menace to society. "Fucking idiot" really is the politest thing one can say about someone like that. (Unless you really are crazy and in that case the politest thing is "fucking certiifiable.")

I'm sure I could go on about this more, but I think you get what I'm trying to say: PAY A'FUCKING-TTENTION!!!!!!

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 09:50 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Project Management Ninja

So, I just had a call with a client about one of their projects. The call lasted for 55 minutes. After about 45 minutes of discussion and testing, I realized that while they were discussing and testing one project, I was discussing and testing a different project that just happened to be similar in this one, narrow aspect.

The client never knew and were impressed with my support and assistance.


Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 10:11 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 09, 2007

See? Tourists Aren't the Only Ones.

Guy to group of teenagers after doors close on crowded train: You know, in this city we move in on the trains.

Girl #1: We're not tourists, you know.

Guy: Then you should know better.

Girl #1: Oh, just shut up.

Guy: Didn't your father teach you to act better?

Girl #2: Her father is dead.

Guy, after slight pause: Well, maybe that's why she's such an obnoxious little twat.

And I completely agree that she is an obnoxious, little twat.


I have a nice story for you people who think that I'm a "fucking idiot" who is "nauseated by everything."

I was on the train this morning reading my book and it was crowded. I was standing off to the side of the door -- my favorite place to stand because it allows me to brace myself against the door without having to touch anything in the train -- and I looked up from my book and realized that there were people trying to get on the train, but it was crowded and I couldn't move to let more on.

I looked over and there was a big empty space in the middle of the train, so I turned to this lady who was next to the space and next to me and said, "Could you step over there, please?"

And then she said, "Oh! Sorry about that. Thanks!"

And I said, "It's quite alright. Thank you."

No, seriously, that's what we said.

And because she moved, I could move and we let another lady on the train and the lady who got on the train said, "Thank you so much!"

And everyone was happy and polite.

Of course, no one was acting like a jackass by pushing or exhibiting a grotesque lack of consideration either.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 09:35 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

April 08, 2007


Have you seen that movie Jeepers Creepers? Or maybe the sequel, Jeepers Creepers 2: The second night?

They're horror films, so you can probably predict everything that happens in them.

In my opinion, the first film is far better than the second. Up until the actual confrontation with the bad guy, the film is very suspenseful, even scary. The second film is on you watch just for the hot guys in the beginning.

The bad guy in these films is some kind of monster. The first film is terrifying to me because until the very end, you think it's really just this horrible serial killer guy who is very sneaky and bloodthirsty. In the end, you find out that he's not a man but a monster with wings and stuff.

As a man, he wears a black trenchcoat and a wide-brim hat. You don't can't see his face or anything.

I couldn't quickly find a good photo of the bad guy as a man, called the Creeper, and I suspect that's mostly because in the first film you really don't get to see him very well.

Ok. Now, here's the point of this story: The Creeper lives in New York City and he likes to hang out at the Starbucks on W. 39th.

I was over there with my friend Jeff this weekend. We were just hanging out, chatting over coffee, and I looked over and saw him sitting in the corner by himself. Unfortunately, this was one of the very few times that I didn't have a camera on me. But Jeff had his cellphone camera handy. He took this picture so you can see:

(Click to embiggen.)

See? SCARY!!

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 09:02 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 07, 2007

Tax Time

Well, I just finished filing my taxes. I'm getting a little bit of money back and that's good, I guess.

I'm still pissed off, though, because in order to get that little bit of money back I had to over pay by that amount. And the amount the government alleges that I owe is RIDICULOUS. Tens of thousands of dollars. Down the tube.

Yes, I make use of some government services like police protection and streets, but that doesn't mean that I think those things should be paid for by income tax or that I think the government even should be involved in those things.

And what about things like the War in Iraq? Or to pay for all those pet projects in other states that I will never see or use?

Filing my taxes always puts me in an absolutely foul mood.

I don't like being robbed.

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Comment Spammers:

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April 06, 2007

He's Just Not That Into You

So, the French Rocket Scientist is really attractive and he's smart and funny. He's goofy in a way that I enjoy.

But I am getting the distinct impression that he just isn't that into me.

This will sound... all manner of ridiculous, but I've never had this happen before. I've always been the one to observe incompatibilities between myself and a potential mate and reject them, not the other way around.

I've certainly had those situations where we both decided at nearly the same time that it really won't work -- but this isn't one of those cases.

Of course, my dating and relationship experience is rather limited.

I think he's a nice guy and I'd like to spend more time getting to know him. But he's been rather distant and aloof of late. If this were his attitude from the start, I wouldn't likely think of it, but after our first few dates he was affectionate and sweet. I'm getting the distinct impression that this "affair" is winding to a close even before I thought it had really started.

Obviously, this isn't the end of the world or anything. It is something of a disappointment, though. Ces't la vie, non?

Update: When it comes to reading other people's minds I tend to second guess myself. Last night we talked about going to the movies tonight or tomorrow night. We agreed we would go tonight. He said, "Great! We'll chat tomorrow afternoon about what time."

I haven't heard from him at all today. No email. No text messages. No IM's. No voicemails. Not a peep. (Tis the season!)

I didn't expect to hear from him actually. As mentioned, I've noted that his behavior has grown somewhat distant. Yes, I could have taken the initiative and contacted him, but I think this adds to the evidence supporting my observation.

Yup. I think it's clear. He's just not that into me.

Update 2: So, when I didn't hear from him all day, I planned on spending my evening finishing my taxes and watching the SciFi channel. But my friend invited me to hang out with her this evening watching movies and eating Chinese food. I accepted her invitation and looked forward to having a girls' night in.

Well, at about 7, I was walking toward her apartment and my phone rings. It was Frenchie. And he wanted to know if I wanted to go to the movies with him tonight.

I apologized but declined the invitation because I had accepted other plans in absence of his confirmation.

He sounded disappointed, but we agreed to maybe go to the movies tomorrow night. I told him to call me. We'll see. Tomorrow night I'm planning on cleaning my apartment, finishing my taxes, and watching the SciFi channel.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 08:12 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

April 05, 2007

Life in Cubes

I love the guy who shares my cube with me. He's smart and funny. He's polite and interesting to talk to.


Every morning he eats a bowl of the crunchiest cereal in the whole world and I have to sit here and listen to him chew. That sound is absolutely nauseating to me.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 08:05 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

April 04, 2007

Overheard in New York

This is a HUGE pet-peeve of mine and, unfortunately, I work near Times Square, so I encounter it a lot. I'm pleased to see someone doing something about it, but I still think that in order to be effective, one needs an electric cattle prod.

A tourist mom with three teens in tow halts in the middle of the block, causing two suits and several other people to crash into them.

Suit #1: For the love of God, move, you idiots! There are people walking behind you!

Tourist mom: You don't have to be so rude!

Suit #2: He's rude? You clearly see this is a busy sidewalk, and yet you stop dead in the middle and block all traffic!

Tourist mom: He didn't have to say it so rude -- we are not from around here!

Suit #1: And does that somehow excuse your being idiots and stopping in the middle of a busy street?

Tourist mom: At least we are not so rude in Tennessee!

Suit #2: That explains the idiocy, but it still isn't an excuse.

Tourist mom: That was unnecessary!

Suit #1: Perhaps, but it's true.

Suit #2: Here, maybe this is more polite: Welcome to New York. Slow walking idiots prone to stopping for no reason stay to the fucking right of busy sidewalks, and don't get in the way of the non-mentally impaired locals. Now fuck off.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 11:38 AM | Comments (12) | TrackBack

April 02, 2007

Oo, Girl! Where You Been At? I Ain't Seen You Since Star Jones Ate Cake!

Sooooo... yeah. I been bizzy.

Work. Hanging out with the rocket scientist. This and that.

I haven't had much to say about my personal life, really. I've mostly been ranting about Iranian hostage situations and Global Warming and Unions and misapprehensions of Objectivism and wasting my time playing games online and reading books.

I am SO far behind in my reading. I needa jump on it. Where do people find the time?

Anywhoodles, I'm not dead. I'm still here.

Oh! I might be considered for another job in my company. That would be nice. It's totally iffy still, so we'll see.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 04:39 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

F to the E R G to the I E

Flibby: I wonder why I don't own any Black Eyed Peas albums

Friend: they are fun

Flibby: I agree... people be hatin' on Fergie too much
Flibby: She's probably not right in the head, but that's ok.
Flibby: It's not her head anyone is interested in.

Friend: she was a meth addict
Friend: i think shes doing pretty well for all that shit she did

Flibby: Serious
Flibby: I bet her house is clean

Friend: hahaha

Flibby: Even if she pees her pants.

Friend: shes is a professional taht doesnt want to let her fans down
Friend: she is not a pee in the pants-er

Flibby: That ain't what I heard...
Flibby: http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/celebrity/Fergie+s+pee+confession-7553.html

Friend: no
Friend: she def peed on stage
Friend: im just saying its because she is so professional

Flibby: Oh, def. Without a doubt. Clearly.

Posted by Flibbertigibbet at 04:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack