Load of Bollix

Not content with irritating me with their gratuitous bus ads, now a group of unbelievers have sued to ban the phrase "so help me God" from the inaugural oath, saying it is not part of the oath as specified in the Constitution.* http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/12/30/AR2008123002858.html?nav=hcmodule You’re right, atheists. “So help me god” isn’t in there, but neither is anyone trying to put it in. It would follow that I ask what exactly you're trying to prove? You lost me somewhere between “pointless” and “get a life.” This phrase comes from a man who only committed 6 years to watching a half-starved, half-naked, poorly-equipped army die of exposure, disease, and war.** And then, to continue being the biggest anti-patriot that ever was, this chump went on to dedicate an additional 8 years of his life to holding together a nascent, unprecedented government as none of his contemporaries could.*** So you’ll agree with me that the man who started this

January I went to the dentist on January 4th at 10 AM. I purchase an electronic toothbrush with UV-light sanitizer for the head. My hygienist assures me it is the “Cadillac of toothbrushes.” I got my period on the 20th, which also happens to be Audrey’s birthday (designated, as are all birthdays in my planner, by a monster truck sticker). Pure coincidence, though I usually feel more fertile whenever I am around her. I was also probably suffering from seasonal depression by this point, because I diagnose myself with this each winter. Jim always says I can solve this by drinking more milk for the Vitamin D, but I don’t like milk, as a general rule. This just makes me feel more helpless. February I mail my tax return on Valentine’s Day. I also attend a Bon Jovi concert on the 28th and bought dog tags because I’m a cowboy, and on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted. Dead or Alive. March I am supposed to go on a tour of the White House with my sister and her fifth grade class on the 15th, but

I live a mere 9.1 miles from my job. It takes me slightly over an hour of metroing and busing (or busing and busing) to get to my job. This means, in the approximately 129 days I have traveled to my current employer, I have logged at least 258 hours of mass transit, not taking into consideration delays, broken trains, no-show busses, or times I just couldn't take it anymore and started to walk home only to realize how truly psycho an idea this really is. 258 HOURS. This strikes me as an insane amount of time to be doing something so wholly unpleasant. I am fairly certain that Magellan circumnavigated the globe in less than 258 hours. I am also fairly certain Magellan's ship didn't smell like urine or curry or lurch uncontrollably all the time. Actually, it probably did all these things, with the exception of the curry smell…But if a curry smell DID start wafting through the air, I bet it at least had the decency to wait until after 9 AM, so the crew didn't think it was

A bus shelter that doesn ’t smell like urine. Prolly a stretch. Speaking of stretches, I’d also like to see... The second coming of Jesus. To tell us once and for all just how exactly to stimulate the economy. If you're of the school that thinks stimulating the big C is the way to go, you might as well pick me up a... Magnadoodle . I just have really good memories of these. And I’d really like to make some memories with a new... Bluetooth headset. To move forward with my evil plan of mocking nearby people aloud and not being suspected of foul play. If this doesn ’t work out, then I want… The ability to silence people at will. Think how glorious it could be! It could even give me a... A sense of purpose. I’m pretty sure Santa carries this around in his sack. Along with... 20/20 vision. I’d love to know what my hand looks like when I stick it in front of my face sans glasses. And maybe, just maybe, if we could all see a little more clearly, maybe we’d get some... Peace on Earth an

In light of recent news that our super great Government is now looking to give the super great US auto-industry $25 billion of the $700 billion bailout (imagine: 700 billion frosties ), I can’t help but wonder: WTF (What the f*ck)? I thought the money (my money, your money) was meant to stabilize the US financial system, not our crappy auto industry. I dig that a lot of people are employed making (bad) US vehicles and they’d “lose their jobs” (become unemployed), but come on. This is a clear case of “been there, done that” (in Latin: shouldus knowest betterest by nowest ) which resulted in little to no innovation on the bailoutees ’ part (read: shitty cars or big cars or ugly cars or the movie Transformers, basically a really long, really bad GM commercial that even Optimus Prime couldn ’t save). I owned a GM vehicle in college, and frankly, I’m thinking Nancy Pelosi should be lobbying the Bush administration to give me $25 billion as pay-back for my car breaking down all the god

Mary: 's income dropped considerably today after paying nigh on $3 for Chap Stick . Economy: has no lips. Point: Economy, for lacking-therefore-not-having-to-deal-with body parts that do not self-lubricate. Economy: suffers from 6.5% unemployment. Mary: suffers from 100% employment. Point: Economy, for not having to commute. Economy: markets took a dive despite China’s ginormous stimulus package. Mary: has so far said self-lubricate, dive, and ginormous package. Point: Mary, for obvious reasons. Economy: forced Circuit City to declare bankruptcy. Mary: will miss the tag line "where service is state of the art." Point: Mary, for taking advantage of inevitable “ALL MUST GO SALE.” Mary: Is supposed to be doing a take home exam, not this shenanigans. Economy: Invented shenanigans. What what. Point: Economy. It's not over...

Being a wholly uncharacteristic list of Favorite Things. A sense of humor Otherwise, riding a Metro bus that smells like a rotting pumpkin would just make you wish you were dead. My boyfriend Whose well-written intelligent blog I “Mary-ify” with ridiculous comments about Tremors worms going under in the housing bubble. June Carter Cash What a badass. Married to Johnny AND played the autoharp? I love it. I just feel better when I listen to her (especially if she's drowning others out). Reese’s peanut butter cups I don’t know who you are, Mr. Reese’s peanut butter cup inventor, but God Bless You. Venus razor It only took about 10 years and a discontinued Gillette Sensor Excel for me to jump on this bandwagon. That third blade, so oft mocked by anonymous cheapskate skeptics as unnecessary, is the kicker. Saturday Night Live Not on Saturday Night Otherwise, I might not keep up with the news at all. Election day is nigh upon us To the victor will go the spoils. Which means those annoyi

When you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven or pie heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it's not, mmmmmmmm, boy. -Jack Handy

1. Gloria Steinem on my Starbucks mug "Women’s bodies are valued as ornaments. Men’s bodies are valued as instruments" ? Whatever, Glo. You could just cut to the chase and say this business about the glass ceiling cracking is BsoddingS. The Way I See it, someone should go take a look at those NFL cheerleaders and the decidedly hookerish clothing we dress little girls in and get back to me on how far we’ve come. 2. I treated myself to a latte since I have to sit through 3 hours of economics this evening and it’s not even good. No further explanation necessary. 3. Obama overload OK. So, he’s young (compared to all the zombies in national politics anyway) and he’s a Democrat and he’s black and his wife is an Amazon. He's a change alright, but until I see him walk on water and turn five loaves and two fish into a feast, I’ll continue to think Jesus is the better, more buoyant man. 4. Optimism The world is full of wretched people. Why can’t we all believe this already? 5. The

Mary: Generally eschews numbers to include basic math. Economy: Uses numbers to the point of confusion. Point: Mary, for keeping it simple. Economy: Is the focus of the presidential election. Mary: Is still pissed The Office was cancelled because of VP debate. Point: Mary, for choosing sense of humor over sense of doom. Economy: Gets $700 billion dollars to bail it out of trouble. Mary: Deals with consequences of her actions. Point: Mary, for character. Mary: Diligently saves in 401k plan. Economy: Eats 401k savings for breakfast. Point: Economy, for being gangsta. Mary: Can read or write Economy: Eschews those who can read, write, and/or afford their own homes. Point: Economy. See above. Mary: Is sick of hearing about the economy. Economy: Friended Mary on Facebook through the "people you may know and/or have screwed" function. Point: Economy, for embracing social networking. Final tally: Mary: 3 Economy: 3 To be continued...

Y'all know this drill. 1. Gentrification. Slapping a huge indoor mall in the middle of a distressed area doesn’t make the distressed area any better. Now you just have to walk by the crazy people on your way to Best Buy and pray no one mugs you for your Target bag. 2. Rosary beads as bling. Are you a thug or a priest? I can’t tell if I should run away or confess my sins. 3. This economy. It’s not doing so great. Have you heard? We’ve got the whole country freaking out about it when I would wager that at least 50% of our good nation thinks Adam Smith is a contestant on Dancing with the Stars and Donald Trump wrote The Wealth of Nations . 4. This bailout. A bunch of people decided they should buy a house when they couldn’t *quite* afford it + A bunch of people decided to cash in and give them the money to do it anyway = Mary’s problem, and everyone else who pays taxes. Hmm. F*ck you. 5. This city. I think I’m the only person in DC that still cries out (as in, aloud) when I see someo

The friendliest little city around is not a city, and not especially friendly. Apparently gang activity there is growing at an alarming rate. This can’t mean anything good for the state of our society, when gangs come to a suburban “town” whose whole only claims to fame are 1. IKEA, which is probably twice the size of Reagan National Airport; 2. Potomac Mills—the world’s largest outlet mall—which is probably three times the size of Reagan National Airport; and 3. All the streets are in alphabetical order. Dale City lies about 30 miles south of DC. I grew up in Dale City, in the house where my mother still lives. When we moved into that house some twenty-two years ago, our house was one of a few houses surrounded by a field. The elementary school I would attend, the houses that my neighborhood friends would live in weren’t there yet. We’d pick blackberries in the field and spot deer from the swingset. Today, as you can imagine, the fields and trees in the vicinity of my mother’s house a

*done entirely with Microsoft Paint

*My* favorite quote about communism comes from a former sorority sister: “Communism is a lot like 69ing. Good in theory, but not in reality.” So here we go, my v. first blogroll, combing 69ing, communism, Marty McFly, Mark Twain, and history (not necessarily in that order). Not bad. http://jimunfiltered.blogspot.com/

The “I'm not a plastic bag” bag. This bag is the idiot’s equivalent of Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain. My arm is not a plastic bag. Neither is the keyboard I’m typing on. But that doesn’t mean I have labeled either as such for others to see. The gaudy diamond ring epidemic. The once exclusive diamond ring has become the female penis size: there is a point where big = ridiculous or gross. Rest easy that for each carat of your wang bauble, 250 tons of earth were mined. That's 50-60 elephants or 8,000,000 "I'm not a plastic bag" bags worth of dirt. Go green, indeed. Sunglasses on the metro. I hate to break it you, oh diva of the subway, but you are underground. The sun does not shine in the bowels of the city. The rest of us surface dwellers know this, so what’s your deal? Aviators on the metro. If the above is a flush in terms of annoying, this a full house. “How was your weekend?” I’m pretty sure you don’t care what I did with my weekend any more than I care what you d

[I started this post in January, and duly forgot about it. You'll see the article referenced below is a tad old]: I am qualified to write a blog post on religion because I, in a fit or boredom, ordained myself online during springs finals week my freshman year of William and Mary. If you have ever been to Williamsburg, you’ll agree that there is quite literally nothing else to do there. Here is my opinion on The Matter as an online reverend and child of a self-professed wannabe nun: religion is not a Bad Thing. Many intelligent people were or are religious. Many scientists (horrors) are religious. In fact, Francis Collins, the head honcho on the Human Genome project, wrote a book entitled The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief and he has been charged wtih “playing God” by mapping our genes. (He really quotes C.S. Lewis a lot, so you may as well just read Lewis' Mere Christianity while you're at it). Issac Newton, genius and crazy bugger that he was

"All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his." The Importance of Being Earnest The following phone conversation is not embellished. It is real and just took place. (Phone rings) Hello? Hi Mom. Hi! What’s the matter? Nothing. Does your head hurt? No. Your head can hurt because of the barometric pressure. My head doesn’t hurt, Mom. Did you know that? I don’t have a headache. Oh. Well, I do. We are such creatures of the earth. What’s up? I was just calling to see if you’d be around later. I need to bring Dad his birthday present. Oh. I will be. I do want to go out and buy one of those things, you know, for directions, that you put in the car. A GPS? What are they called? They give you directions? A GPS. I’ve missed out on a few things because I’ve needed directions. So I think I’ll get one. Jim’s Dad sent him one and we used it yesterday. Have you ever used one? Do you have any male or gender-neutral wrapping paper? I need to wrap Dad’s pr

I'm not going to judge how people waste their time. God knows I do stupid things to waste time. -J___ A few days ago I joined Facebook. It was not premeditated. Suddenly it just dawned on me—"I'll join Facebook." So I did. I watched the alarming process of my gmail contacts automatically populating my friend list. And then I began the even more alarming process of 1-seeing people on my gmail contact list to make me wonder aloud "When the hell did I email them ? and 2-realizing that just about the whole world is on Facebook (save my Laissez-faire, libertarian love and quote source). Within hours, I had alerts in my inbox about how so-and-so wants to "friend me" and so-and-so has "written on my wall"—messages roughly akin to "Whoa, what are YOU doing on here? I thought you hated this?" I never HATED Facebook, per se. If you don't know anything about me, know that I am an over-reactor (Irish and Italian blood are a volatile mix). I

The thing about celebrities is that I know they are no good. Most celebrities are famous for no reason other than they look good. Those of us who spent some time in a place called High School know that the good looking kids aren’t really useful for anything, other than being the prom queen. The thing about this country is that we idolize celebrities. Photographers hound them and we buy the magazines full of their pictures. We read about their lives and how they drop their baby weight in a week, we want to know who they are wearing, which other good-looking celebrity they are dating. And our celebrities become more and more vacuous with each passing day (I saw Paris Hilton’s Funny or Die ad the other day and almost puked on myself). We are a tabloid culture, a looks-ocracy. I’m OK with this, only because I don’t know how to change it. I can tell myself its meaningless and move on to judge the next person. But I guess most of America doesn’t think like that. Certainly the celebrities do

The following are excerpts from a travel journal kept during my visit to Honduras in March 2005 with Habitat for Humanity. Getting to Honduras, as the title suggests, my co-Gringos and I had a four hour layover in El Salvador. I happened upon this journal after a visit to my mother’s house where she insisted that a three-drawer Rubbermaid cabinet from my college days accompany me home. Eager for something useful to come out of my four year sentence at William and Mary, and noting the 100,000 post-its and index cards stowed in the drawers (infinitely better than a degree), I obligingly took it with me. It was only later that I discovered the Rubbermaid not only held index cards of every size and color, but my Honduras journal. It was by no means faithfully kept, but I recall several nights at least in which I sat on the roof and wrote in it, smoking a Cuban cigar like any normal visitor to Central America would. It speaks of thinks occupying 22-year old Mary's inner thoughts--dealin

I am not a city girl. Specifically I am not a Washington DC girl, for it is the only city with which I can claim some acquaintance. It is the *cool* place to be. In this the capital of Nerd, you score points for riding your bike to work, having an iPhone, and knowing wines, ethnic food, and what is best for other people. It is busy, loud, and crowded. And it is not for me. It is impossible to be left alone here. To an introvert such as myself it is unthinkable to talk to a stranger for no reason about fuck all. And despite how commonplace this has now become for me, it never ceases to blow my mind a little each time it happens. The ballsy in me devised a strategy to cope with this unsolicited, unwarranted, unnecessary pestering. Whenever I’m accosted by crazy woman/man/guy (I think guy) with the biggest gauges in his ears I have ever seen, I’ll just hand them a flier. This flier will list references, and they will function as they do on a job interview. These will be people Freak Jane/

This post first requires you view this delicious morsel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpVw06fpRyM Things that would have made this video better: 1-Woman enters train, sees an unattended bag, starts to ask a fellow rider, "Is that your..." and is cut off by a giant explosion. 2-Woman gets in fight with fellow rider over who has smaller carbon footprint. 3-Video captures the olfactory sensation of people, despair/ennui, sweat, and old carpet. 4-Fellow rider is seen picking their nose. And eating it. Twice.* *Must be the same nostril. 5-Woman drives her car into the metro while wildly screaming “YOU stand clear of the doors, asshole. MWAHAHAHAHA!” 6-Woman enters the train only to find every seat is taken by some a-hole in the aisle seat and their effing bag next to them. 7-Woman is carrying her lunch in a Victoria's Secret bag. 8-Video features a giant, fat, sweating Jabba the Hut-esque mass sitting next to the woman, complete with handkerchief to wipe away the sweat cause

* a series of Haiku dedicated to my commute Roach on the Red Line Bet it works for a law firm At Farragut North Self-propelled staircase So no one has to move Stand on the right, jerks. Crazy man in rain Pokes me with umbrella Says that mine is lame No shit crazy man I am soaked to the skin Flip flops are squeaking. Vespas on sidewalk When in Rome should be taken At face value here.

(I used my moment to Google Tim Russert since I had no idea who the flip he was. This is called being Non Political / Uninformed). ((this post is dedicated to Prof. Himmelstein in the hopes that I have momentarily distracted her from work with this stellar post)).

A: just have to tell you that ______ farted in my cubicle and I'm about to gag B: that's heinous A: it's awful - I want to take a shower B: you should go fart in his office and close the door. That ups the ante A: I know - what do they call that, a dutch oven? B: I've never heard of the dutch oven being applied in an office setting, but desperate times call for desperate measures A: I couldn't even open my mouth at one point. I don't know how anyone else didn't smell it B: that is unspeakably heinous A: we should put this on the shout box on the [company] intranet or the coffee break forum B: make sure you use 10000 exclamation points: "______, thanks for farting in my cubicle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" This conversation is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, places, heinous actions, lame office communication mediums, or g-chat conversations is not intentional and purely coincidental.

"Anyone who has ever been on a snipe hunt will know what hunting ballyhoo birds was like." My worthless piece of crap Word-A-Day calendar strikes again. Ballyhoo is the word of the day, and the calendar randomly launched into a poorly worded, nonsensical "explanation" of the unknown origins of the word. I'm pretty sure I'm dumber for having read this. May God have mercy on my soul.

Hillary Clinton Sweeps West Virginia , the headline read. Now, how many people actually live in West Virginia? Despite its wildness and wonderfulness, I doubt v. few live outside of Charleston (because it’s the capital) and Morgantown (because it's where the university is). So really, this means that Hillary Clinton sweeps those in Charleston or Morgantown, West Virginia, because everyone else is trapped in a mine and unable to get to the polls. Any even better headline would be “My coworkers saw Hillary Clinton the other day, but I saw a clown with a Cosi bag walking toward me (literally, a real clown with big floppy shoes and giant tie) as they were telling me the story of seeing Hillary Clinton, and real clown in real time trumps past politico sighting.”

Anyone who knows me knows my thoughts on Facebook. But these guys express it so much better and with a British accent. Brilliant. (Courtesy of J-dawg). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrlSkU0TFLs

My landlord = HUGE FRIGGIN IDIOT living sans water because of the above = new found appreciation for Modern Times W&M alumni event with cash bar = No way in hell Mary will be attending Deliberating not answering the question = you don’t know and I called you out by asking 3:30 PM Wednesday = brick wall Hobbit-sized food critic temp = A.N.N.O.Y.I.N.G Annie Leibovitz photo of Hannah Montana = Gollum from Lord of the Rings Seriously, compare this: http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2008/06/miley200806?currentPage=2 http://www.exploredesign.ca/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/gollum.jpg

Everyone In The World upset about Myanmar; still unable to locate it on a map.

“It is truth universally acknowledged that some snowflakes are more unique than others, so it goes without saying that in an office of 14 there are two to three in the group entitled to sticking a giant brown bag of groceries in the company fridge. This bag, like the snowflake’s ego, leaves no room for the rest of us and our poor, sad, nonorganic lunches or half-full glasses of milk.”

Today I decided I will keep a running log of all the idiosyncrasies (read: mostly things that piss me off) in the hopes that it will help me to get over it quicker, and move on with my day. And as it is not even 10:30, and I have three things, I have a feeling I will be addding to this all day long... 2:00 PM Openly glare at toolbag on his cell phone in the elevator. Seriously dude. Even Jesus doesn't have any bars in the elevator. 12:58 PM Check my online statement for the zillionth time to see if I have been stimulated yet. 12:55 PM Distracted while walking to the kitchen by a laser pointer on my person and the wall behind me. Quickly identify the culprit and tell her: 1-if you were in elementary school, your ass would be expelled for that and 2-you should go play with that discreetly in the lobby when the TOBY inspectors come tomorrow. 11:00 AM Asked by the 4th person in my office where my sombrero is. Granted, I’m ridiculous and have a stronger-than-most affinity for wearing si

Tiny Archibald Keenan Abel Able Sean Marion Keenan Ebony Keenan Eggshell Keenan Robin’s Egg Blue Skippy Thaddeus Wayne (for obvious reasons) and, John It should be noted that all other male names are currently in use by one or more Wayans Brothers.

I just depressed myself by looking at pictures from college, when I was tan and did cool things like go to Europe and lick Mayan ruins and worry about my future. Now I'm pale and go to Ballston and worry about my future. Not nearly as cool. http://flathat.wm.edu/March222002/opinionsstory3.shtml

The man on the metro wearing a safari hat Sir, it is 7:45 a.m., and we are in Virginia, not Kenya. Also, it is about 65 degrees, and you look like a huge douchebag. Have fun big game hunting in Farragut Square. Katie Holmes If I married a weirdo with gobs of money, I too could spend all day having no exceptional talent other than walking around in expensive clothes purchased with his money. People who call a number and say they are calling because "this number was on their caller ID" Who called you? -I don't know. Do you know what this was in reference to? -I don't know. Any idea what this might be in reference too? - I eat my own feces. Way to be. Teamwork In kindergarten, this meant that I did all the work while the members of my group learned to read, ate glue, or opened the door on Danny using the classroom bathroom. It's really not that much different now, in the adult world. Only kindergardeners get a bathroom in their classroom Odd, since they are the one

I just addressed a letter that, once posted, will travel farther than I have in the last 3 years. By the same lack of togetherness that caused me to be administratively withdrawn from an online community college class (Seriously. I know, I know. Who am I?), I never sent in my official decline letter for my master’s *programme* at the University of London. My admissions offer first came in February last year; I duly applied for a deferment, it was granted, they sent me a new acceptance letter in October. I received something a few weeks ago about living in London and quickly dismissed it as a glitch in their system. But yesterday, when I got an earnest e-mail from someone asking me if I had questions about moving to London or my programme, my stomach did a flip-flop. So tonight, I went routing through my files for my October acceptance packet. And sure enough, I never sent back the letter. This means, of course, I have to sign it and mail it immediately. In my e-mail to the earnest, fri

“Did you know you can now use federal dollars to teach abstinence education to 20-29 year olds ? Something tells me if you are a 29 year old virgin, you don’t need education. If it has come naturally to you for that long, then…yea.” -Jackie January, 2007

"Ladies, Its almost one in the morning, and I cannot sleep, which both sucks and blows, since I am exhausted and quasi-sick (where "quasi" is pronounced with the long "a" sound like those crazy Brits would say it) and NEED to be in bed, since I have to get my ass up early and go back to work tomorrow. Cut my face off. I just got back from 5 magnificent days in NYC, visiting my BFF and subsequently her fiancé since she lives with him. It was marvelous and fantastic. I'd never been to NYC (or as I call it know, "London-lite"), which is shocking, appalling, no one can believe it, blahblahblah. But I learned several things there, which I think I should share with you in my current sleepless blunderings, so here goes: 1-Life is the Subway. It's always changing or not running local stops, and no matter what the map says you should do, it really is a crap shoot and a strange man might rub up on you. You think you have it all figured out, and then you

This weekend, I joined the ranks of barefoot old men, babies, and v. small dogs in “hiking” the Billy Goat Trail in Maryland. I had originally thought this to be an accomplishment, but discovered, after talking with barefoot old men, babies, v. small dogs, and the universe, that this is not so. If you have never been to the Billy Goat Trail, it is a trail in Maryland where Washingtonians go on weekends to talk loudly about the weather on their trips to Boston and/or political candidates while violating your personal space in the great outdoors (versus the ATM line, Chick-Fil-A line, or Orange line). On this trail, while dodging bees and other white people, you will scramble over rocks with heart pounding, ponder mortality, and wonder which is more intimidating: the German baby ahead of you bounding from rock to rock like Spider Man, or the twelve shirtless douchebags behind you, gaining on you each time you scrape your knee on a boulder (Boulder?!). If you pause from cursing the Depart

Last night, Jim and I discovered the wonders of the audio pronunciation key on dictionary.com. I looked up / made the robot voice say: Douchebag (not in the dictionary) Douche, then Sphincter, spelling it “sycphintor” Jim looked up: Culinary, then Quay The end.

In the true spirit of my new favorite book, A$$hole: How I Got Rich and Happy by Not Giving a Damn About Anyone and How You Can Too , I’ve expanded my list of pet peeves. The following are not limited to an everyday Metro riding experience, but are limited to an approximately 30 minute lunch break. Men in running shorts. If I wanted to see a random stranger’s junk, I’d rent a porn. Old men in running shorts. I don’t know if there is such a thing as geriatric porn, but I hope this is as close as I’ll ever get. Men staring at me. Seriously. Go jerk off in the bathroom and be done with it. Really fat people eating. Just want to knock it from their hand and scream, “Don’t you know this is the reason why you are the way you are?!!?” Highly Inappropriate elevator conservations. When you walk into the elevator and you hear, "hips just..thrusting," its usally a bad sign. It's also a bad sign if your dog is humping your cat. He ain’t bored. When I’m bored, I don’t hump another spe

Since I have about as many pet peeves as there are stars in the sky, I suspect this will be a recurring feature on this my ragey blog. I’ll start with Metro nuisances, since it’s just so easy. Girls who carry their lunches in a Victoria’s Secret bag. Translation: “This delightfully pink bag signals that I pay too much money for underwear and WAY too much money for slutty underwear and as a result am forced to bring my lunch to work.” People who carry, nay, ROLL, those suitcases behind them on the Metro . Translation: “I am a classic middle-aged or wannabe-middle-aged DC tool who is too lazy to actually carry the weight of my work on my shoulder(s) and I enjoy taking up two stairs on the escalator.” Mr./Ms. I-won’t-sit-by-the-Metro-window-seat. Translation: “I am also a classic DC tool. I can be old and shitty, or young and shitty, or somewhere in between. Mostly I just think I’m a special snowflake who should not be forced to sit against the window, and I will roll my eyes when some ba

Same rules apply—namely, it should be made clear that this place of employment is entirely a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real persons or places of employment, living or dead or baselessly arrogant and condescending, is purely coincidental. Knocking on the faux -wood of a colleague’s cubicle like it's a door. Seriously, there isn't a door, or walls, or any privacy whatsoever. You don’t need to rub it in. Proceeding to talk to the colleague in the cubicle after knocking on the faux -wood of the colleague’s cubicle while the colleague is clearly on the phone. No excuses. None. Get a f* cking clue. Asking if “this is a one-time mistake” after following directions. When you help someone do their own job, you should show gratitude, not be a f* cker . Calling a colleague and asking them to come into your office and be witty. This is a good way to ensure that the next time the allegedly witty colleague comes into your office, they'll bring a flaming bag of dog sh*t

(This post title has nothing to do with anything. I’m feeling v. surrealist this AM) I recently put out a mass e-mail asking my friends if any of them recommended a gynecologist. The response rate is alarming, to say the least—I even got a reply from the pregnant “man”, which I quickly deleted as the idea of a pregnant “man” is seriously bizarre and off-putting and I don’t give a sod if this makes me close-minded. I’ve never seen my friends and pregnant men respond so quickly to anything I send out, and with such unintentionally amusing responses: “Why do you want a chick?” “I only like men touching me…” “My doctor has dreads and could probably score you some weed…” “I don’t want to get all psychological, but I think men doctors are gentler for “natural” reasons…” "I googled "gynecologist" to make sure I was spelling it right, and one of the top hits was a YouTube video entitled "My gynecological visit." What the fuck is wrong with the world?" (ok, this wa

"I don't really want to bum anybody out, but college is useless...I don't mean that in a bad way. I just mean that it costs too much and it takes too long, and you don't learn enough. But other than that -- it's really fun. The transition from college to life is an enormous one." "And unless you really know what you want to do, I would recommend that you don't worry about it. It doesn't matter ... just get good at it." "Whatever it is that you do, don't add to the suckiness that is out there. The world is filled with incompetence, and people doing things they don't want to be doing. Do what you want to do, and you'll get good at it, and you'll add to the discussion and the dialogue. If you do what you don't want to do, you'll be bitter and old and your parents." The above is an except from Jon Stewart, also known as the only good thing to have come out of William and Mary, from the time he came and talked to