Tuesday, April 25, 2006

My train of thought...

As I was riding the train this morning I noticed that I have secretly named most of the regular commuters and I’ve compiled a pretty healthy list over the last 10 months or so.

The early commute tends to have the more colourful characters. (Dammit, Spell Checker and your British Dictionary setting! I said colourful….ARGGGGGGHHHH! It did it again!). I realize that very few people are at their best first thing in the morning and I should cut them some slack. But then again, that's their baggage, not mine. I’m the very picture of happiness and good will all friggin day.

I’m inclined to think that a certain part of my brain gets unduly bored watching the stops come and go each and every morning and each and every night and each and every morning and each and every night and has to entertain itself somehow when the battery on my Nintendo goes dead. Unfortunately, my ID or Super ID or Super Duper ID is a bit antisocial and that I might be a good candidate for anti-psychotic drugs.

(Pop Quiz: How many of you, when you’re walking down the street, look at passing people and rate them according to a “Punch” or “Trip” category? Is it just me? Really?)

Or maybe I secretly (or not so secretly) despise most everyone on the planet and I feel it is my duty to pigeonhole them into inferior sub-classes NOW so I know who will be best suited for future psychological enslavement and torture when I fully evolve and take over the universe. (I have BIG plans, people. It’s best you get on my good side now. You have been warned.)

Maybe, and I’m going out on limb here, I’m just an asshole.

Either way, the list begins with:


Jitterbug irritates me the most because her problem is the most easily solved.

Every morning, she stands too close to me. (It’s a big platform. There’s plenty of room about 50 yards away where she could hover to her heart’s content, for Pete’s sake.) But this subconscious violation of my personal space doesn’t irk me as much as her constant shuddering.

No matter what the temperature is—no matter how cold/wet/hot/humid it is—she wears the same damn cotton overcoat. And every time a train passes or a mouse farts somewhere in Bartlesville, Oklahoma she shivers like a hypothermic epileptic bowl of jell-o.

She’s a professional looking woman. She dresses smart and, from what I can tell, she isn’t sacrificing buying a new, warmer coat so that her 18 special needs children won’t go hungry. (Just a guess...) Is this petty of me? (Be careful now. Your answer may be held against you.)

All I can say is, "Buy a fucking heavier coat!"

Problem solved.

Well, it seems I won’t get to the rest of my list today. There simply isn’t time to tell you all about:

Napolean Shithead
Gag Bag
Tidy Doffer
The Stern Lesbo
Napolean Angst (no relation)
The Ogre Twins
Dr. Valium
Nurse Ta-Ta
Joan Rivers Fashion Disaster
Stupid Head
Blind Bang Bangs
Mullet Mistress
Princess Yoo-Hoo
The Chav Chumps



Blogger Phil said...

This is hilarious.

You are not the only one who does this.

Every so often I'll throw a name upon someone who agitates me - by sight, sound, smell, whatever.

Example: I like to attend the basketball games at a local university. There are two men who go to every game, as I do, and every game, they are wearing the suits they wore to work. Ties too. They won't even take them off for the game, which annoys me to no end. One of them usually is eating a sandwich. So I named them, respectively, "John Business" and "Charlie Sandwich". I can't explain why, but this amuses me greatly, and perhaps only Wayne can understand why.

9:05 pm  
Anonymous jama said...

I do it, too. My names are long like "Farty McFarts A Lot" or "Little Tits McGee".

12:26 am  
Anonymous Sue said...

Let me take you for a trip down memory lane. Here are a few from our incarceration together at the Edge. (some of these may not have been from your time).

Hump, Evil Vera, aka Vampira, aka Huckleberry Douche Bag, Chatty Cathy, The Nuts Man, Woody Allen, Lil' Lotta, Junior Samples, Fembot, Crusty Parker Bowles, Andes Man, NG-1 through NG-87. Crowmagnum Man.

Am I missing any?

We were a bunch of mean F*ckers weren't we?

3:00 am  
Anonymous Jama said...

Crusty Parker Bowles will go down in history as the single greatest and most appropriate name. Wish you could have met her, Wayne.

11:42 am  
Blogger WOA said...

I'm also amused by the town names over here. My morning train terminates in Bangor, which to my ears, sounds like "Bang her". So when the conducter says to me, "Bang her, sir?" I usually laugh and say, "Yes, sir, I most certainly did."

My sophomoric humor knows no boundaries.

(My wife thinks I'm an idiot.)

7:19 pm  
Blogger Jimmy Porter said...

I make up names for people too.. I have also been known to get the Bangher train.. hmm

Although my names are usually, Head in oven, beat with a shovel, stick his face in a deep fat fryer, push him in front of coming train. that sort of thing..

As Charles Bukowski once said when his hooker girlfriends told him she didn't like people, he said: "I do, but only when they aren't around."

8:19 pm  
Anonymous annie said...

Ballsy McTight Pants was looking very dapper leaving Raj's Quick Shop the other day.

5:30 am  

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