...on lemmings

...or more dispatches from the LIRR

dear long island commuters,

lemmings, lemmings, lemmings! you're all a bunch of frikkin LEMMINGS! and now the bastard is one too. maybe the orderly fashion of the subway has spoiled the bastard but this i cannot take. you all stand around like lemmings waiting for a direction to walk in and it's ridiculous.

love always,

the bastard

anyway, so the bastard goes out to dinner tonight with old school. i've known old school about 20 years. she used to help me with my homework in high school. you see, the bastard was always a smart ass but he wasn't always driven to take care of things. just ask cuzzin aces about the leather vest that he asked me to paint a king diamond album cover on and the 2 year period it took me to finish it. took so long that when aces got it back, it didn't fit him. now he has to pay to see the vest when he goes to see dean thrilla's band play on the offset chance that he'll wear it. needless to say, that might be a factor in why thrilla never gave me any work from his band which actualy puts out albums. not everyone can say that they know someone who puts out music. waitaminute, so does the mad russian. okay to clarify, not everyone knows someone who puts out their own music and has it add up to sales so BACK OFF! anyway, in sophomore year, the bastard discovered heavy metal and alcohol so he couldn't be bothered to do his homework. too cool for school so to speak. anyway, i believe i met old school the day that i asked her if i could copy her homework before an electronics class i was taking and she said yes and a friendship was born.

so, tonight we had dinner with some of her coworkers to celebrate old school's birthday adn i went uptown for it. little lesson that the bastard had learned. it is best to order bottom shelf liquor in the upper west side because the bastard didn't get nearly as drunk as could have for $22.50. besides the gin tasted bottom shelf so i'm inclined to think i was drinking bottom shelf. oh well you learn.

so on the way home i head down to penn and i am greeted by this familiar sight. the lemmings. because the LIRR doesn't know what track a train that's leaving in more than 10 minutes is going to be, they make you stand around taking up space, staring at a frikkin screen waiting to find out what track it's going to be on. ANNOYING. and they are transfixed like zombies.

so the bastard knows he's early, so he gets a cup of coffee and dessert. after they shoo the homeless person out of the store i grab some chair and enjoy my overpriced repast. then these two ladies sit down within ear shot. very nasal like old biddies they proceed to go on about the price of nuts, the kind of nuts they eat and how you can but them at fucking trader joes as opposed to costco, what kind of dogs they like, what kind of dogs they have, what kind of dogs they neighbor from down the street has, what kind of dog some lady they know in forest hill has and the kind of nuts she eats. and oh i can't drink the coffee here so i drink the cappuccino because i can't drink the coffee it's too strong aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh shaddup. there's nothing more like the ninth concentric circle of hell than two old biddies (and they aren't even old) yakking about the inanities of their unadventurous lives, i want to kill myself. isn't their anything relavent for you to talk about. seen any good movies? how bout those knicks? ida know. maybe my small talk sounds annoying to others as well. never thought about it. but then again, i'm betting not.

—the bastard