I’m in pathmark, waiting on this long ass line to get my grandmother some stuff for her birthday. (My grandmother’s a major fan of this supermarket and if I could, I would just give people money on holidays, but since that’s “un PC,” I give gift cards: chose your own gift. I’m giving my granny a card with a dollar for each year of her life: 87) The special customer service line is adjacent to the produce area, in that area I see this woman who’s so damn old, i think she’s here for her bi-centenial party. You ever see someone so old, you just can’t help but laugh? I mean, this lady was so small and frail, it was almost comical (ehh, almost?) The funny thing, though, is that I can tell she still had her wits about her. She was with her grandson, I presume, he looked about my age and tragically bored. The same way I am when I’m with my grandmother at stores. It was hilarious to watch though because the little old lady was cursing the collard greens for being to limp and ‘sad.’ I was actually laughing out loud at her, picking off leaves and turning her nose, it was just too much. The grandson had on the blankest stare the whole time, lackidaisically pushing the cart, walking pass the cantelopes like he was walking the green mile to his death. That was truely an episode.
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Watching a dopefiend, on the train, nod in and out of unconsciousness while drooling, is pathetic and disgusting enough, but when you add a bacon/lettuce/tomato sandwich on roll with cheese and extra mayo, it gets really gross. This guy was looked so nasty as the drool mixed with the mayo at the side of his and it started to dribble. Bacon grease and limp lettuce lined his fingers as he drifted in and out. I’m surprised he did drop his food. And then this fool decides to stuff his face at the last bite, I don’t how he didn’t asphyxiate at that time.. But you know junkies, they’re like weebles, they’ll wobble and toggle, but they won’t fall down. Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
I’m one of those New Yorkers that knows how to act when on the train with looney toons.. (Oh, excuse me, I meant to say “people not in control of all their mental faculties”) When the guy that’s maniacally eating the Popeyes’ drumstick and talking to his 4 invisible friends starts talking in your directions, it’s New York policy to not engage, just pretend like they don’t exist. Same goes for bums, train performers, the high school kids selling candy ‘NOT for their basketball team,’ vagabonds and the Mexican mariachi bands… Sure it might sound harsh, but this is New York, we’re on the train to get where we’re going, not to be accosted my Bellevue escapees or swindled out of the changes out of your pockets by the wack-ass break dancers.
I have started to noticed a higher frequency of mentally disturbed people on the trains lately. I’m wondering if it’s Recession-related. I now municipalities try to cut every corner possible when the budget’s in the red. Who knows, maybe they’re lowering their release standards and letting the semi-dangerous out, only holding back the criminally insane… I can’t call it. I just know I’ll be on the look out.
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