I Wanted to B*tch Slap This Girl

I ALMOST slapped a b*tch today.

I get on at my stop and find a seat on the end of a three seater. The middle seat was open. I put my purse and bag on my lap and scroll through my phone as we continue on to the next stop. We get to Anderson-Woburn and this girl gets on and says to me as I am scrolling through my very important Facebook feed “MOVE OVER!”

She didn’t say “Can you move over please?” She just demanded that I “Move over!”

I survey her shoes. Boat shoes! UM, I am pretty sure everyone has taken their boats out of the water this past weekend so boat shoes…officially out of season.

I look up and see her stupid mousey nose with her stupid mousey lips and just envision her nibbling on a stupid piece of cheese.

Have I mentioned I haven’t taken ONE sip of my coffee yet and I have been up since 4am because my husband’s alarm went off at that time so he could go to an early meeting?

I do my best to smile and move over.

For those of you, like her that do not know commuter etiquette, this is how this should have gone down:

Mousey-Boat Shoe Girl- “Can I sit there?” While she is pointing to the middle seat.

Me- “Sure.” But instead of getting up to give her the middle, I slide in and take the middle myself.

Mousey-Boat Shoe Girl- Act pleasantly surprised that I have given you the coveted end seat while saying “Thank you!”

Me- “No problem.”

See, simple as that and no one gets b*tch slapped or judged on their out of season boat shoes.

New Favorite Conductor at 29....Again

I have a new favorite conductor. This morning, as I get on the train I say good morning to the conductor as I do every morning. It’s helpful to be nice and I do see them every day so it only seems right.

I sit down in my seat and have my ticket ready. When he comes by he asks me my name since I do talk to him every day. I tell him and he says “Wow! That will be easy to remember. That’s my daughter’s name!” He then goes on to tell me that she looks very much like me. Same skin tone, similar hair. He then says “How old are you?”

I have to think about it for a second since I now turn 29 every year. “Thirty-One.” I say to him.

“I was WAY OFF! WAAAAY OFF!! I was going to guess you were younger than my daughter and she is 26.”

Did I mention I have a new favorite conductor?!

Just Sitting with My Box of Tampons- Totally Normal!

Last night I went to Shecky’s girls night out. I try to go every time they are in town. In previous years, the goodie bag was worth its weight in gold. I loved it. As the years went on, I have noticed that the goodie bags have been getting a little lack luster.

I get to Shecky’s and go to pick up my goodie bag (always the first thing to do, as in years past, they ran out even though your entry fee included a goodie bag). After getting my goodie bag I notice that the vendors are vacant. I take this opportunity to get up-close and actually see what the vendors have. I end up leaving with a new purse and a necklace.

While I am perusing, a vendor says to me “What a fun goodie bag. I am not gonna need tampons for like a month.” I brush it off like “Oh, you just told me you were from Maine so yay for tampons you crazy! Who the heck cares about tampons?” I smiled at her and told her I hadn’t checked out my goodie bag. PS, I am f*cked if my “inner voice” ever becomes my “outer voice”.

I leave and walk over to the green line and head toward North Station. Since I have several stops, I decide that I’d go through my goodie bag. Usually it’s hair care, nail care, beauty products so I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Now, this is a somewhat packed train. I was lucky enough to grab a seat but there are several people standing over me.

What’s the first thing I whip out? An entire box of tampons! Do you think I could get it back in the bag? No! When I pulled that box, everything in the bag toppled in so I couldn’t get it back in without it being blatantly obvious while hanging out the top. Now, I am on the T, flailing a box of tampons around like an idiot and everyone is looking at me. Hey, they could even have tweeted about it. Who knows?!

I see there is a book inside. I grab the book, throw the box of tampons in my goodie bag throw the book on top. I notice the cover. It’s the SAME book as I got in my goodie bag last time. NOW, not only am I disappointed with my tampons, I am disappointed in the book too. Bummed! Not only was I bummed out about the first two items I saw, I had to wait until I got home to find out what the rest of my things were.

So, Note to self: Don’t open packages on the train in which you have no idea what could come out of it.

To Put it in Your Mouth or Not?

The other day, my train friends and I sat at the end cap where several seats face each other. We continued our conversation and others joined in. One guy in particular who joined in looked like a construction worker with his lunch box and his hard hat and a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

When we pulled in to Anderson-Woburn, he looks around and says “What stop is this?” We answered “Anderson-Woburn”

“Ahh, what line is this?” in a more panicked voice.

“Lowell.” We answer.

He starts collecting his things rather frantically and darts off the train. In doing so, his cigarette falls from his ear and onto the ground. We all look at it. He’s gone so we just let it sit there.

He then flies back in the train says “I dropped my cigarette. I’ll need this.” Probably referring to the fact that he now had to wait for a train to get him at Anderson, bring him to North Station and then catch his proper train.

I pondered it for a second. He was going to put that in his mouth. It sat on the floor of the train…in fact not just the floor, the aisle where everyone’s feet had just trampled all over. Everyone who walked the city sidewalks through puddles, poop, dirt, throw up. You name it, someone walked through it.

So, here is my question: Would you put that in your mouth? If it was a Milk Dud or a Junior Mint or an unlicked lolly pop, would you put those in your mouth?

Watch Out For The Drunk Guy

The other day on my way back to the office from the RMV, I hopped on the T at Chinatown. While I was waiting, I noticed a guy in his casual Friday-Cape-Cod-Attire. The train station was pretty vacant so he wasn’t hard to miss as he was one of the few people waiting with me.

The train comes and I hop on. I find a seat and sit down and he sits across from me with a book. Of course I sit down next to a drunk guy who’s half in the wrapper.

“I tink yo’-ah boo-tee-ful.” The drunk says to me.

“What?” I say instinctively.

“I think you’re boo-teee-ful.” He says again.

“Thank you.” I say and try to keep it at that.

“Yo’ hay-ah ish pretty.” He says.

“What?” I say trying to make out his works.

“Your hair ish pretty.” He repeats himself but this time he is reaching out to touch my hair but stops just shy of touching it after I give him a look.

The guy in Cape-Cod Attire is peering over his book.

“Thanks!” I say and return to staring at the floor.

“Way-ah you go to shh-coooool?” he asks.

First of all I’m flatter because I am well beyond college age. At this time we are approaching Down Town Crossing and the guy is situating his stuff to get ready to get off the T. However, the Cape-Cod Attire guy thinks he is coming at me. He slams his book and stands up. The drunk guys slowly stands and holds on to the pole so he doesn’t fall. Guy in Cape Cod Attire sits down.

We stop at DTX and the drunk guy gets off.

“I just don’t know. I didn’t get a good feeling about him.” Cape-Cod- Attire guy says to me.

“Neither did I! I couldn’t understand a word he said.” I reply thankful that he was looking out for me. Especially since I didn’t have my pepper spray since I wasn’t approved because the damn RMV forgot the A in my first name.

I Loathe the RMV!

Oh… the RMV! How I loathe thee! I got married over a year ago. I have been to the RMV nine or so times. You read this correctly. NINE TIMES in that last year to change my name. They made me jump through hoops. They needed a copy of my NEW signature from my bank. Sent me to the bank. Came back, they wanted another document signed and notorized because my vehicle came from New Hampshire and in order not to pay tax, I needed the dealer to OK! it. Came back. Then sent on another wild goose chase for some other cockamamie piece of paper NO ONE HAS! Came back. I wanted to keep my signature because it’s basically a squiggle. That wasn’t good enough. I needed to CHANGE my squiggle.

At this point, I was wondering where the cameras were. Was I on boiling point I mean REALLY!?   I honestly was starting to think that they were just doing this to f*ck with me or have something to talk about during lunch.

The lady takes my picture so that when I came back with my ridiculous paperwork, I could be in and out. In order to take the pictures, she has to store it under my name…which at that time, to them, was my maiden name. I have to sign it and she says to sign my maiden name.

I leave and come back with the documents they want. MEAN WHILE, they haven’t asked for anything the website says to bring. Now that I am back, they want to see all of that. They start plugging things into the system when they realize that my proof of address is not in my NEW name. It’s in my maiden name so that won’t work as proof of address.

I am sent to the bank so they can prove that I live at my house. Since I changed my name there AND my signature, I should be all set. WELL, the bank says that I signed up for e-statements so I have to print them all off myself.  I have a meltdown telling them they have no idea what the RMV is doing to me. They print off my documents and notarize them for good measure.

I go back. They have me read the little eye exam thing, I fail! That’s when I lose it “Are you F*CKING KIDDING ME?!” I scream. Everyone looks at me. She whispers “Just promise me you’ll go get glasses.” I agree and she prints my ID.

My husband, thankfully had been with me throughout most of this. I walk out and he’s like “Let’s see this new ID” He looks at it. IT’S MY MAIDEN NAME!!!!!!!!!

I march back in there and cut the line. The lady reprints my ID.

Months later I get a call. They didn’t register my car properly and until I go and fix the paperwork, the bank that holds the loan on my car could take it away from me.

I leave work and march to the RMV. The RMV looks up the info and tells me that whomever called me was scamming me into signing my car over to them by giving me a false address. (OK! They did their job that day!)

Months later, I apply for a pepper spray permit. I go to the police station and fill out all the paper work and do the finger prints. It should have been processed by the end of September. I call the first day of October to see the progress and am informed that the name I filled my paperwork out with and the name on the registry aren’t matching. The RMV left off the A in my first name! How did I not notice this? Well, because I was focusing on the last name and not the first.

I had to march on in there today and get it squared away. I waited 2 hours just to be seen! FOR THEIR MISTAKE!

I went to the RMV by my office. When I finally got to the counter, I was told that I really should have gone to the RMV where the mistake was made. I plead with her and she finally gives in. She fixes my ID and now I have a snazzy black and white temp again and have to wait for my new plastic one to arrive in the mail.

I am really glad this is squared away and really hope I never ever have to go back there!!!!!

Complaints of a Commuter Girl

This morning, I board the train and select a seat. I sit down and get situated on an aisle seat. I look up to see a woman knitting on one of the end cap seats facing me. She is wearing a skirt and her legs are spread eagle. What the heck lady! Close your legs. I don’t care if that is where your yarns path is, close ‘em up! I don’t care if you have tights on either. PLUS, it’s going to be almost 80 today. Who the heck wears tights on a day that’s going to be so nice out? I sure as hell didn’t. I am not wasting a tights day on today. I hate those things!!

Next, let’s talk about that smell…you know that smell, when all the winter sweaters come out from storage. MOTH BALLS! COME ON! Wash your damn clothes before you wear them after they come out of storage. NO ONE likes the smell of moth balls and now it’s near me on the train for my entire commute. BLECH! Gross!

Next, smokers. Jesus! You don’t smell pleasant! I don’t know how you sit with yourself all day. This guy that no-word-of-a-lie smells like a damn ash tray likes to sit near me. I try VERY hard to steer clear from him but somehow or another, he sits near me way too often. Carry some Febreze in your bag and a compact bottle of Listerine. PS, it’s 7 in the morning. How on earth do you already smell like an ash tray?

So, what did we learn today? Let’s recap:

·         Close your damn legs.

·         Don’t wear tights/nylons on days that will reach 80.

·         Wash your clothes after they have spent half a year with moth balls.

·         If you chose to smell like an ashtray, spray yourself with Febreze and swish with Listerine.

It’s very easy people. VERY EASY!