Oh yeah, everyone’s not from New York, you might not know what GWB stands for: George Washington Bridge…
Obviously, I’m looking West, it is a sunset. That’s Swampistan [I mean New Jersey] in the distance. Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
…yeah, sometimes it’s that final nail in the coffin that holds our relationship that never happened.
I mean damn, how can people be bad kissers! Even as I wrote that I knew the answer(s). It’s a damn shame, practice on your hand or something. I just think, that person must really think they are doing a good job because they’re keeping up with those corny moves… I once thought, “is she enjoying this, how can she be?.. Yep, that was my stomach that just turned, I’m crying ‘uncle’: RETREAT! RETREAT!” Ma, if your tongue feels like a pelican’s beek, jabbing me in my tongue, I don’t want you–in life. And head is a major crap shoot, you might molest my junk, and not in the good way. How can people be bad kissers?
Now, I’m not very race-specific when it comes to the kind of women I’m attracted to, sexy is international. It’s about the person and all of their characteristics and other emo things like that, but I can’t mess with thin-lipped white chicks, it’ s like trying to make out with the brim of a 12oz soda can. There’s no leverage, me and my juicy lips are just caught out there, resting on lady mustache [megaFAIL]. I felt all sloppy, she should have gave better tongue *shrugs* I don’t know how the do it back in Dublin, but that just didn’t work here. I could’ve got more action if I made out with an oyster-on-the-halfshell (extra hot sauce, I’m feeling kinky…) How can people be bad kissers?
If a person’s a bad kisser, how likely is it that they know how to fuck? Why give them a chance? It’s like going to the theater to see a movie that had a wack promo just because you want to give it a chance. You’re wasting your time and bad sex is non-refundable.
It’s really awkward trying to coach someone to not repetitively suck-smacking your bottom lip like it’s a ‘ring pop’ from back in the 90s. That shit is just annoying, the sensation of the repetitive motion just irritated me, I felt her even after she set my lip free. Maybe if it were somewhat attractive, I would have liked it, but it just felt like a guppy blindly grazing for plankton. That chick needed to know though, “why do you keep sucking my lip like that?” And this broad replies, “because I like that…”
“Well, I don’t,” I replied. She didn’t get the sign, even though it might as well been on a marquis in flashing lights, ‘yo, you had enough or my lips, take a tour…’ I’m too finnicky for this kind of nonsense, this chick was just sub par. She obviously didn’t read the CoreAPPLER Manual For Making Out And Fornicating. She would have got some that night. As @stixnstone would say, she’s just been downgraded to a #bottomchic, her lips shouldn’t be touching mine anyway.
And when I tell stories like this, there’s always the miscellaneous, “and how you know you’re a good kisser?” So before you ask, lemme just tell you, I am dammit, I got the ‘thank you’s to prove it…. Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
(does my entire blog have to be a sprint commercial? re:»») Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
There’s just never a dull moment when riding New York’s public transportation… Those from the city, reading this, are nodding their heads in agreement right now- or shaking their heads in disapproving agreement. It’s so serious that we know which trains are rowdy-reckless at which times of the day. I know that the 6 train in the Bronx and Spanish Harlem, is dopefiend city, and their Town Square is the 125th Street station at the corner of Pathmark and Skid Row- more rush hour time, not at really night, the halfway house has a curfew. I know that the West Bronx trains ( the 4, the 2 and 5, not the D so much though) are just plain hood, weaves, dice games in the corner, yardyman Jamaican smoking in the last car, loud music…just a general ruckus… You might even spot some people having sex in the train, check youtube. You just don’t know (and won’t be surprised if it did *shrugs* It’s New York). There’s other things that people from here know about, like never take the L, J, 7 or G trains on the weekend, your ETA will double and there might be a shuttle bus involved. Oh yeah, also, the A, which is usually express in the daytime, runs local at night… But that’s ok though, because there’s Always some entertainment on it, doesn’t matter the hour, whether it’s The Doo Wop Bum Quartet, Crackhead Idol or MTA’s Next Tranny Model, there’s always something.
With know all this, I was thrown for a loop when I was taking the 1 train with my friend. Yeah, went to junior high school along the 1 line, but that was half a lifetime ago, nothing’s – deal with is really over there, so I had no intel to know how ridiculous this ride was going to be. We get on the train a 125 going downtown to 14th or so. As soon as we get in the train, we sit down and this puffy-faced shorts-wearing shater punk dopefiend bum starts ‘dialoguing’ with us. I say ‘dialoguing with’ and not ‘talking to’ because this dude just opened up a whole damn convo as if we were will participants in this madness: “Hey how you doing guys, where are you heading? I just got out of the hospital, I got hit by a car, but I’m doing better now. But my girlfriend just broke up with me, I’m doing ok though. I’m heading downtown” [F^cking WHOA!!] In true NYC fashion, we just looked at eachother and didn’t respond. I believe one of us said, “who the f^ck talks to strangers these days…?” We were about to find out. The trains doors open up at the next stop, people rush in on the bum’s side, he’s sitting at the seat closest to the door, there aretwo empty seats next to him then a woman sleeping at the last seat against the wall. A girl sits down next to the woman, she’s with a slightly effeminate white guy. The bum, let’s call him ‘Skeeter’ (yeah he looks like a Skeeter), offers to move some of his stuff so the guy could sit next to his friend. This should have been a red flag from the get-go, who sits that close to a bum? I mean, he wasn’t visibly filthy or smelly, but he was definitely unsavory and suspect. So the guy sits down, now all four of the seats are filled… Then Skeeter gets into his whole shpill again, he gave them the full-extended E! True Hollywood story. And this is where you lose me, they ACTUALLY replied… And offered up additional info. “Oh ok, we’re coming from our school” [Columbia Univ., by the way] “I’m from Ohio.” “I’m from California…” We shake our heads and mutter, ‘of course they are…’ This is not native behavior. Skeeter replies back to them, “I stay in Union Square.” Red flag #2. Me and my friend are done, there’s not an emoticon or twitter hashtag to accurately express the moment. In my finest used car salesman voice, “BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE…” After taking some pills from out of a prescription bottle, Skeeter then offers to sell some packets of Five gum one of his ‘boys’ gave him. The girl politely declines, “oh, no thanks, I don’t eat gum,” then has an Eureka Moment and decides to trade him gum-for-peanuts. Now Skeeters chewing with his mouth open, talking about California current events… Then the girl gets off, we’re like ‘uhhht ohh she left man stranded,’ but he gets of the following stop. Now we’re the ones caught out there, I’m drinking my Nantucket Cran-Grape juice and I place it on the floor between drinks, Skeeter says, “you really shouldn’t waste that” *blank stare* He just needs a friend… One’s on the way. At 34th Street station this big TMNT-Bebop and Rock Steady/Bubba from Forresst Gump-looking black dude busted in oo the train, “is this motherfucking shit going to Brooklyn?” I’ma call him Charlie The Vet. Skeeter replies, “I don’t know, but I’m going downtown” Charlie: “I don’t give a fuck about where you’re going, I’m trying to get to Brooklyn.” Skeeter’s feelings were hurt, “ahh man, that’s mean, I’m homeless” Charlie: “I’m homeless too..” (They’re bonding.) Skeeter then offers Charle some peanuts and they wax on poetically about streetlife. They must have been parched from their snack because Charlie started accosting me about my Nantucket “You know that don’t need to go to waste, give that to us,” he says as the peanuts fly out of his mouth like Cookie Monster’s cookies. (The peanuts just fell to the floor, no projectile spewing..) Anyways, I’m like ‘What’ as Skeeter eggs on Charlie, “yeah, they’re rude, they ain’t even say hi when they came in…” Charlie needs no egging, he gets into a rant about his hair, “oh you think you fly because you got curly hair,” he whips of his hat, showing/rubbing his bald head, “I used to have curly hair back in the day…” My friend is dying now…we’re only at 23rd Street, two more stop. Longest ride ever. RED FLAG #3: when a peanut-spewing Vietnam Vet starts removing articles of clothing and fondly remembering the glory days while caressing himself, it’s time to get up and go.. And that’s just what we did.
I bet Charlie and Skeeter just faded off into sunset, trading pills and war stories… SMH Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
I’m a person a trillion pet peeves, actually pet is not an accurate enough word. Some shit pisses me off and grosses me out…
People looking at me, on the train, would think, “oh he’s nice, giving his seat to the single dad with the baby stroller.” No, firstly, I never give up my seat to fat people, that seems counter-productive and like tacit enabling…especially not if their shoes look comfortable. I gave up my seat because, at my level, that damn baby was staring in my face, like 18″ away from me with its big eyes and eerie precociousness. I got spooked. So I get up and then I’m standing over a dusty weave. I can’t win sometimes.
This is like saying ‘Sanitation Chic.’ What’s the name of their line, Trash By Design, of the House Of Swampistan? I’m Done. Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
It’s amazing how many calls, texts, bbm and gChat messages a person can receive when they abruptly stop tweeting. Messages literally saying, “dude, are you alive…” “Yes Guy, look, I’m replying to you right now…”
I wanna see what happens when I don’t announce every random thought that crosses my mind. I might solve the Mideast Peace crisis or find the answer to nuclear fusion. Hmm, let’s see.
Besides, all of the people I want to speak with, I do…you know facebook, calls, texts, bbm and gChat. Sent on the Now Network from my Sprint® BlackBerry
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