This is one of the reasons I hate the Long Island Rail Road. Some lady was going to catch the train. She was on the wrong side of the tracks when it pulled into the station. She was wearing heels and a dress just below the knees. The train pulls in, she runs behind the train to cross the tracks, lifts her dress to climb over the small guardrail, runs on the grass, up the incline to the platform, gets to the train and they close the door on her.
The conductor, sticks his head out of the window to see if anybody is coming. There is no way he could have missed her.
Guaranteed after work he was joking about it to the other conductors.
“She talks so much my arm hurts”
I used to eat candy cigarettes all the time when I was a kid. The knock against them is that they get you ready for real cigarettes. You practice with the candy cigarettes, hold them and look cool. When it came time to try real cigarettes, it was like “what the fuck, they taste nothing like candy cigarettes.” So I didn’t smoke. The problem now is I’m up to four packs a day of candy cigarettes and I can’t quit.
I was checking out the net the other day. I don’t know how this happened but I ended up one one of those sites that had naked girls on them. She was standing in a bathtub and was really hot looking. This girl was a 10. So I’m checking her out and noticed mold around the tub. This really grosses me out and I’m not talking about a little mold. I’m talking they haven’t cleaned the chalking in years. Now I can’t look at the girl. I enlarge the picture and checking out the mold.
Then later in the day. I see this picture of comic books this guy got at a flea market. They’re in a bag in his closet. The bag of books is suppose to be the main thing. I notice all the dirt in the closet door tracks. Firs thing that comes to mind is, “how can people live like this. It’s a pigpen.” Never would I let my place get like that.
Some people never get the hang of talking on the phone. I think it’s because they have nobody to talk to, once somebody calls the flood gates are open.
I called up my friend the other day. I had something to tell him but first I asked him “how you doing?” That was it. Bla, bla bla and more bla bla bla. I couldn’t get a word in. He’s talking about something I couldn’t give a crap about.
So what I do when I talk to him, I put the phone down and walk away. This time, I put the phone down on the dining room table, went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of seltzer, drank it, walking into the dining room, picked up the phone and he was still talking. Normally when you talk on the phone, you can hear the other person making a comment or breathing. With this guy, it don’t matter. He just rambles on whether there’s somebody there or not.
It’s funny how he never asked me a question about what he was talking about. Why would he. He don’t care. He just wants to talk.
This is not the first time it happened with him. It’s every time. That’s why I try not to call him.
I took this picture back in the 1980’s in Penn Station. I was into photography back then and always carried my camera with me. Right when I took this picture, the little girl turned around and looked at me.
This picture haunted me for a long time. I always wondered what happened to that little girl. She probably is in her 30’s by now. I kind of wish I could find her and give her a copy of the picture.
Would be funny if I met her and gave her the picture and she said, “I always wondered what happened to that guy who took my picture way back when.”
I didn’t know it but there’s some kind of unwritten rule with Facebook. If somebody you know post something on Facebook, then you see that person, don’t talk about what they posted on Facebook.
It’s like two different people in two different worlds and they never meet. Somebody that I work with posted something on Facebook and when I saw him I commented on it. He got so embarrassed. He could post stuff on Facebook but not talk about it.
What did I know. Now if I see somebody I know post something or even post a picture I never bring it up. I don’t want to be in that awkward situation again.