The Sound of Silence
Riding the subway in style.
While I try to sell off the new Ipod that Apple replaced for me and pawn it in for a newer, video model, I've been doing my usual New York errands sans constant stream of inspirational jazz/tap music pumping into my earholes. Except, without the accompaniment of the Electric Light Orchestra and/or Steve Perry, I can now listen in on my fellow New Yorker's convos.
And here's what I've discovered: At least 85 percent of the people living in this city might be borderline mongoloid. At least. And it's turned me into Scowling Johannsen -- if two people on the morning train are having a conversation above 300 decibels, I believe I have the right to shuffle my paper, clear my throat, side-glance them, cross my legs and kick them in the back of the leg, do I not?
A few days ago, two blonde girls in their mid-20's got on the train, and stood next to the coveted corner position seat I had so cleverly nabbed (thanks again, strap-on preggers belly!). They begin talking about inane shit, but in that really annoying, middle-class half-valley-girl almost-Long-Island accent that is so prevalent amongst girls working in PR (which I gleaned from their convo was where these two were at.) PR stands for public relations, but it should stand for public retardation (good one, Collins). Because if you've ever met a publicist, after 5 minutes you're amazed that there isn't a doody-lined stream of toilet paper flowing out of their pant leg, and a cord connecting said publicist's wrist to that of his/most-likely-her legal guardians.
The President of FPA: Future Publicists of America.
Where was I? Ah, yes, the daily nightmare of having to listen to strangers. So one of these two blondes starts a-talkin, and I have no choice but to listen. And that's when I think I heard the single dumbest sentence ever uttered by man/Jersey trash:
"Whatever, that Amish boy totally lied, because he said it was a dwarf rabbit, and it grew up to be a full grown cat."
Don't blame the Amish -- any zipperless fool would have made the same faux paw.
Seriously, how do these people get HIRED at JOBS? And, like, buy groceries and read signs and not get accidentally killed everyday and shit? I've been thinking about this for 8 straight days.
On the other hand: awwww. And relax, PR people reading this, I have severe, severe autism. So my word is worth nothing.