…on the cattle and the creeping things

so we have these fancy new bathrooms at the office.

and while I'm sure it has that "new bathroom" smell when the mad pooper of our office doesn't leave a hanger in one of the stalls,

the bastard has to wonder what would possess a man to sit in his stall without his shoes on.

not once.

but, twice.

we're owned by Swedish people now.

perhaps it's a Swedish thing.

but I'm notsomuch with the sureness of this matter.

—the bastard

...on too much information

you know,

if you're in the bathroom so long

that you need to take a cigarette break in the middle of doing your business,

maybe you need to see a doctor about your messed up intestines.

or maybe not smoke while in the can.

not hating

just saying

—the bastard

...on epidemics

it started out like this.

my ladyfriend was out for a solo mission with the bebe.

and for the life of her, she couldn't get anyone to hold open, let alone open a door for her and the fucking Cadillac of bebe carriages.

then finally some woman opened a door for her with her sleeve.

now you may have read about the h1n1 virus and the bastard understands that it can't hurt to play it safe but, there is such a thing as playing it too safe.

people walk the streets with surgical masks on.

wait.

no.

dust masks.

thus is a pic from the elevator bank on the bastard's floor.

really?

really?!?

I think too many people have read "the stand".

it would figure though if this virus got all out of hand.

ummmm, i gotta go wash my hands now.

—the bastard

...and so it begins again

you know,

the bastard never wanted to be the smoking nazi.

but,

when john q. teva sandals and his Acapulco shirt decides to sidle his smoking touristy ass next to mine I gotta move.

you see, the bastard is trying to make his quality of life better by avoiding assholes.

smokers

loud people in stores.

the like.

you see I'm the type of guy who's gonna use his meanness and a new baby to make you feel bad for your asinine behavior.

but I'm gonna seethe first.

and I don't want to.

so I'm avoiding you.

try to avoid me.

love always,

—the bastard

...on a whiff of smoke

i think someone is smoking in the men's room here.

or someone smokes so much that when he enters the men's room, he smells like smoking in the men's room.

if it's the latter, then that's a lot of smoking.

—the bastard

man, this is WHISKEY!

so i'm running late today.

mostly because i was delayed by my updating iphone.

what can the bastard say? sometimes we are beholden to our technology.

anyway, i decide that since it's gone up 10 degrees that the bus was the better option.

and folks mill on and i suddenly smell whiskey.

so the bastard starts looking around for some hung over old guy. someone who looks like he's been on a bender but, no luck.

but the smell won't go away and i realize it's the young couple next to me.

ok

i'm only going to say this once. there is NO REASON for young people to smell like whiskey in the morning. it's just fucked up. what are you? the two most fashionably dressed hobos in new york? what the hell? it's just wrong. fucking dogs'll start playing poker and pigs'll fly! it'll be anarchy and whiskey smelling kids!

—the bastard

...on asking

...and receiving

sometimes, the bastard stays at his ladyfriend's place.

it's a short hop from the office.

and i actually get sleep.

anyway, she only has one vent on her floor and when everyone on the floor cooks in their apartment, the most curious smell is borne in the hall.

so one of her neighbors put out an air freshener.

next day it was gone, thinking that the neighbor who put it out brought it back in. inspired, my ladyfriend bought her own to do away with the smell which some days is a mixture of cooking and mothballs and 3 day old cabbage being set on fire.

so upon waking up the next morning, the hallway smelled of airwick sugar water and baby bottoms, which mind you is better than the mothball smell. look for it in your grocery store.

when she got home it was gone. what to do?

upon discussion with the maintenance guy, she asks me to write a note to the air freshener thief. and not the kind of note with vitriol and and cursewords. begrudginly, i agree and write a nice note.

"CAN I PLEASE HAVE MY AIR FRESHENER BACK THANK YOU?"

next morning, lo and behold, there it was, right where my ladyfriend left it on sunday night. it was like the air freshener fairy returns air fresheners in return for notes from tenants. it was magical. so, she did what any smart new yorker would do. unplugged it and put in in the apartment. air fresheners are expensive you know? you can't trust anyone these days. but, you can leave a note about it.

—the bastard