Certified Idiots

I saw another odd sign today as I was walking to work. On the side of a truck it read: Certified Document Destruction. Now, it's not as good as Real Egg Substitute but it still got me thinking. What exactly do you have to do to get certified so you can destroy documents? Do you go to school for it? Do you get a license if you pass said course? Someone told me that it means you get a certified document that tells you all your documents are destroyed. That doesn't make sense either. "Sir, here is a certified document saying we destroy all of your Guantanamo Bay torture documents. It list everything we got rid of. No need to thank us." Wouldn't you now need to destroy that document too and if so would they do it and give you a certified copy that the certified document of your files were destroyed?
It reminds me of another slogan I saw on the side of a residential moving vehicle. It read:
We care about your load.

Seriously.

Does any one take the time to think about what they are putting on their commercial trucks before they let them loose in the world to do business? I tend to think they don't.

Air Traffic Control

Is it me or does anyone else think it is retarded when people clap on planes when it lands safely. Like they're all watching an opera and the performance was amazing. Isn't it the job of the pilots to get you down from the air safely? Why would people risk their lives to fly in a metal tube 6 miles in the air if they were scared enough to clap at the end cause there was a remote chance they would all plummet to their death? I think this is insane. The whole clapping thing. It's like people in a theater who clap after the end of a movie. No one can see or hear you asshole. Those actors... not really there.
Maybe the pilots should clap after every plane landing. They should add a loud "Whoo Hoo!" just for dramatic effect too. That'll get the passengers thinking. Are the pilots this excited normally or did we just escape death and didn't even know it? Let's see if they enjoy their vacation then. They won't stop thinking that they'll have to get back on again to fly home. "Whoo Hoo!"

Train Wreck

I have a friend whose blog moniker is Train Wreck. This post has nothing to do with her. Sorry, Train Wreck. This post actually has everything to do with an observation I had on the train this morning. I'm standing in the train waiting for the doors to close when a woman about 35-ish attempts to get on the train as the door is closing. Now, she would have cleared it entirely if she was neither one of the following 2 things. 1: a moron and 2: carrying a purse the size a small water buffalo. Unfortunately, she fit both of these descriptions and therefore did not clear the closing doors. First, her head hit both sides of the door like a demented ping-pong ball. Then, as her body slithered through the door, her right arm and the obscenely large bag that was attached to it, got wedged in between the doors. Try as she might, the woman could not get all the way in. A few good samaritans (read: fellow idiots) tried to help her and get the door open... to no avail. I stood there and did nothing. Now, I know you probably think I am a cruel person. Frankly, I don't care what you think. Secondly, I knew perfectly well that the train was not going anywhere. The door operator knows there is a door that is slightly adjar and will open it again to make sure all idiots are safely inside the train. It took a few seconds longer than normal in this instance but I think it was the door operator's way of breaking the monotony of his day with a little train door operator humor. I, for one, liked the guy's style.

Habitual Voyeur

I am a Habitual Voyeur. Love looking at people in various states of undress and sexual intimacy when they don't know I am watching. I once had an apartment in Boston that overlooked an all girls Boston University Freshman dorm. It was as close to heaven as you can get on this planet. Leaving that place was one of the saddest moments of my life. Anyway, I was at P.S. 1 this past Saturday for their Warm Up party. Its really cool. Normally, the place is a modern art museum where a public school use to be. On Saturdays from 3-9pm there is a party in the court yard. Beer, DJ, hipsters. Really nice party on a hot summer day. The best part is that the place is a voyeur's paradise. There are these steps at the front where the stage is and people are just sitting down watching the party dance in front of them as the DJ spins behind them. Every girl seems to wear next to nothing and that includes short skirts. Naturally, while sitting on steps, their skirts are riding up giving full view of plenty of panties. Some weren't even wearing panties. Oh glorious day!

Oxy Morons

I saw a box of food going into a hotel service entrance today that read Real Egg Subsititute on it. Seriously?
What the fuck does that mean?
This is probably a competition thing between egg substitute companies as they try to out maneuver each other for egg substitute supremacy. One of them obviously wanted an edge and made the claim that they are in fact the REAL egg substitute in order to distinguish themselves from the other, fake brand of egg substitute. This leads me to another thought. If one version is the real deal, then how bad does the fake stuff taste. I bet though, if you eat enough of the egg substitute that when you eventually go back to eating regular eggs, the chicken laying stuff will blow your mind.

Fish Toilet

I went to the beach on Saturday. I use to not like the beach but I have grown use to it over the years and now I find it quite relaxing. The water was nice, not too cold. The waves were not exceptionally big but still a nice size to enjoy. As I was being pummeled by the waves, letting the current throw me around, I couldn't help but think that the ocean is just one giant toilet bowl for all of aquatic life. It would be like a fly descending into a human toilet bowl when it goes on vacation. A bit nasty but still very refreshing.

Pervy Claus

Every time I see a guy with thinning white hair and a white beard I think 2 things. 1: he looks like Santa and 2: he does this because he is a pervert. I think the Santa look has a bit of a Pedo feel to it. It's not a coincidence that a lot of child molesters have this look. I don't know what makes men do this when they get to middle age but frankly, I think it's a little creepy. And they are always assholes. It's like they know that they look like Santa and they feel compelled to act the opposite of the good hearted, fat guy in the red suit. Can't you just picture one of them saying to you, "want some candy little girl?" Ew. It's even weirder when you're a guy a they say that to you.

Retarded Quicksilver

One of the many dangers that can happen on the streets of this city is getting hit by some guy on a bike who's speeding through the city streets like he's Quicksilver. I am always mindful of them when I cross the street, looking at on-coming traffic to make sure they are not approaching. Even when the street is packed with cars, they can sometimes come at you from the sides so you have to be careful. I have nothing bad to say about them. I wish they didn't ride so fast but I understand they have packages they need to deliver and I should be watching out for them just in case.
Today however, as I was getting off the bus, I look in the direction of traffic before I headed across the street. I barely took 1 step when this fat retard almost hits me going the wrong way up the street on his bike. I don't mean to use the phrase in a derogatory way. I mean it literally. He was obese and had attributes that were signs of obvious low intellect. He didn't even look back at me as he yelled, "Hey!!!" to get me out of the way. I yelled back, "Hey, fat retard! Come back here! My fist wants to dance on your face!" Fat stupid fuck kept on going. There must have been a free Jell-o give away or something. No time to stop. Must get free Jell-o!

Ass Clown

I was riding back from New Jersey the other day when I pulled up to a stop light. I looked over at the car next to me and saw a middle aged man who was bald up top with curly blonde hair around the sides and back. He was sporting a thick blond mustache to match. He looked like Bozo the Clown's perverted uncle. I could not stop looking at him. Like looking at road kill. Disturbing yet captivating. He apparently noticed I was looking at him and stared right back. He then proceeded to give me an air kiss thinking it would distract me and make me look away. I did not. I stared straight at him and as mock response I licked my lips. He gave a nervous chuckle as he turned to face foward and I could read his lips say "asshole". Yeah, I might be an asshole pal but you're a fuckin' clown faggot, dude.

Oops

Here's an annoying fun fact: People can't help but say "oops" when they almost bump into someone rounding a corner or coming out of a room. I don't exactly know why they say this particular word instead of, oh, anything else. They could say "sorry" or "pardon me" or even "excuse me" would suffice. No, everyone insists on saying "oops" like a fat office secratary who drops her half eaten donut on the floor just out of reach from her pudgy, swollen fingered grasp. When it happens to me I wait for them to say it and quickly, slightly under my breath, say "douche". It kind of sounds like "oops" but not quite. They'll think they heard something different but they're not sure so they keep going. Maybe if I say it enough to the same person, they will subliminally change and start saying "douche" without realizing it. That would make me happy.

Harem

I want my own private Harem. I don't need too many girls in it, just enough to keep things fresh. Maybe around 10 at one time. They would revolve in and out of my Harem once I got tired of them or they got too old. Kind of like Menudo. If I could have been anyone in history, I would have been Suleiman the Magnificient Tenth Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. The guy was born into the the greatest situation any person could ask for when being born. The Empire was at its largest so he didn't need to expand further if he didn't want to. Ottoman society was at relative peace so he didn't need to fight if he didn't want to. Being born the Tenth in line had a positive ring to it so he was looked at as the greatest even before he could walk. Above all, he had a Harem that would make Hugh Hefner weep. I don't need the amount of women he had in his, which I heard was in the hundreds, but A few would be nice. It's all I'm asking for.

Lava Balls

Most men take for granted and most women don't know that balls have a mind of their own. People think they just hang there in the sack and do nothing. This is not true. When it is cold out, they shrink up closer to the body for more warmth. When it is warm, they hang loose and sway in the breeze. Even more obscure than that is if you look really close and watch them for a minute or two, you'll notice they move around. The skin around them slinks this way and that like a caterpillar over a rock. It is very hypnotizing. Like watching a lava lamp when you're stoned.
A side note: I've heard they taste good too.