Bitching the Way

I did the 'work' thing today.

It was a relatively slow day of filing files and answering a few phone calls. At least I had a chance to fix a printer jam. The usual assistant stuff.

I also called for the damn interview. I was nervous as Hell. I wanted to wire my teeth shut they were chattering so hard. Daniel got on the phone, and was very cordial. He asked me if I wanted to come in tomorrow. I said yes. At 4:00PM. Wish me luck.

I didn't go to Starbucks this morning, but instead stayed to press my shirt for work. And to go to that fucking stupid morning meeting. I stood there like a handcuffed dummy while we went through the process of picking winners for perfect attendance. I wasn't on this list this day. I missed one day too many. I was out last week. Besides you can't win twice in a row, so there is no reason for me to go to the meeting for awhile.

It was like standing in the middle of the Planet of the Apes. These cretins were restless and damn near rowdy. It was annoying. The meeting consisted of drawing lots, calling out the names of the winners and "have a good day." WTF??

I blew that pop stand fast, and headed uptown to work. Do you know, when riding the Way, I find a myriad different things that piss me off? Stupid shit, that largely tourists do, that is downright annoying. Hey, I'm not tourist bashing here, but some of them are too much for words. A real New Yorker would never do some of these things for fear of having his/her head handed to them in a bowling bag.

For instance: I'm walking upstairs and there is a family forming a phalanx on the stairwell as they come down. From the little larvae all the way up to the parents, they have to spread out across the entire stairwell, as if they are the royal family coming down out of Buckingham Palace. Well I give dad and mom a real New York greeting by plowing between the both of them as I ascended the stair.

Hobobob, you're a real sonof- abitch. No I'm not. I'm just practical. I have to get up the stair, so unfor- tunately I have to plow through someone. Who should it have been? The kiddies. Then I could be called a sonofabitch. But I chose the parents because they are bigger and should know better. Make room for the OTHER COMMUTERS kiddies. Simple.

Just a little spice for their riding pleasure.

Another pain are fucking bike messengers too tired to ride their bikes to and from their pickup locations. So what do they do? Bring their fucking grungy, shit covered trail bikes into the Way during RUSH HOUR. What in the fucking world??? You have to make room for this stainmaker because this asshole is in a hurry to pick up a package and just doesn't feel like biking down to get it. Dude, you're a FUCKING BIKE MESSENGER. That's the route that you're supposed to take. That's what you do. You don't come and pack your shitty rack into the crowded Way, it's as simple as that.

Irritating, when you have dirty clothes on to begin with, and don't really need them more dirtier.

I've got one last one....

The dumb fucks that stand in front of the train doors like deer in the headlights when the train stops in the station. These piles of excrement stand right in front of the doors as if there isn't a wave of people looking to pour out. I wish that I had an oversized right foot, about the size of a small car, and come out with it first, landing on a swath of those dumb motherfuckers, crushing a path right through the center of this orgy of stupidity. I'm serious. It's enough to make you scream.

And then when you get out of the Way, you're supposed to be a cordial, courteous New Yorker heading to work. No, that shit wires you up.

Now I'm planning to leave the comfortable Starbucks to head to the box for even more acts of wanton buffoonery. I wipe my face with a harsh, dry hand, trying to rub feeling into my features. I wonder what Roundtree has for me tonight. Just this morning he had me print out some sort of biblical piss and vinegar newsletter from somewhere in Wisconsin. He says to me that it comes out every month. I expect he believes that he's going to have me print this shit out monthly.

Then this massive moron comes up with: "Dude, you'll have to teach me how to do this shit one day." Like never boss, I think to myself. I say: First you've got to work on getting the hardware. And he replies with: "Oh, I can learn on your stuff my man." The forward punting gall of this guy. Roundtree is getting to be more and more of a headache each day.

The minute I get home, here he comes with computer questions. He asks me to check and see if a CD is encoded. He claims that he bought a music CD from a street vendor, to 'help him out', and the disk is empty. I look at the disk and can tell it's blank. You've been rooked Roundtree. "Awwww shit man, that's what I get for helpin' out a brother!"

You help people Roundtree? Just the other day this guy was asking me for Q-tips and Baby powder. He is the ultimate consumer. A blob, rolling over and ingesting everything in his path. If he's not asking you for something he's not breathing. This is the truth. The man is proving to be a leech.

He reclines across his bed and says to me: "Hobobob, what do you think of a hundred and sixty dollars for an Ipod?" I don't think about it Roundtree. You shouldn't be either. "Why not," he asks, sitting up on his bed. Because you have no way of loading music onto it. You don't have a PC. "Hell, I can use yours," he replies matter-of-factly. I turn to look at the television audience. Can you believe the stones on this guy? You can forget that Roundtree, I don't have any music on my laptop for you. "Well can't you download them from the Internet?" You must realize something folks. The Internet is God's gift to mankind for homeless people. It's not a tool but an answer to every problem in the world. It's a wonder that the world's medical leaders don't use it to find the cure for cancer. All you have to do is put 'cure' in a search field and hit the button.

No, Roundtree, you can't download anything from the Internet. "Well, my brother has all the equipment that I need to download music into my Ipod." Well then you're set, you don't need me and my computer. He sulks over this. Largely because he and I both know that his brother has bullshit to load on his Ipod. What he does HAVE is an opportunity to ask me again at a later date if he can load music from my laptop.

Too bad if you want to know. I don't have time to hold these guys hands. And I can tell when someone has designs on my baby. They are preoccupied with it. I tell you, it'll only be a matter of time before Roundtree will ask me can he use it for something. Probably to watch a movie, or listen to a CD. Something ridiculous. And the shocking thing is that he will honestly think that I'll say yes. Even though he is constantly designing things to do with my laptop, he will not stop, of this much I'm certain.

Like Seth, who made it his life's aim to separate me from my baby long enough to use it. For what reason? To play chess. Can you believe that. That was his Earth shattering reason. Like Seth so goes Roundtree. Not going to happen, I don't care how hard you try.

Roundtree is everywhere tonight. Back and forth from the bathroom to the bed and then back again. He is restless. And so am I.

I think I'll continue to blog.

Hobobob