Wednesday, November 11, 2009

rant-coated lollipops

honey, you don't bring sand to the beach



so today's stimulant-fueled musing deals, once again, with one of our favorite films of all time, romy&michele's high school reunion.



there's a terrible anachronism going on at the flashback of the senior prom. You may recall the nefarious christy masters announcing r&m's eccentric dress as, "oh, look--it's the madonna twins!" however she failed to include a nod to one of our heroine's psychic abilities. while they both did incredible jobs at emulating our favorite bitch, they theoretically didn't do their homework; while michele impeccably looked the part of 1984's grungy desperately seeking susan madonna, romy opted for high ponytail-severe makeup-bustier bound blond ambition madonna, and seeing as how they were the class of 1987, and blond ambition didn't commence until late 1989, a full two years later, there's no way that look could have existed for romy to accurately portray to wear to the prom.
kudos for trying, though.

next up--[yet another] nyc mta rant and what i like to call "the extra chromosome amble."
by definition, a syndrome characterized by one's inability to sit in a perfectly vacant and therefore available seat upon entering a subway car. the first thing you think is, "look for an open seat and sit down," right? well, not really.

you've seen them--they get on, they see plenty of available seats, and yet they walk in a completely uncoordinated, unstructured pattern, like there's an extra set of chromosomes going on there, if you know what i mean. they're unable to apply the logic protocol necessary to: enter train--see seat--sit down--continue to destination.
what's going through the teleticker their mind? questions, contemplations, perhaps they're waiting (or wishing) for a name tag to appear, or for the plastic seat to change to their favorite color like a mood ring. or maybe the concave curve of the seat back reminds them of the convex television screens of their childhood and they're waiting for the pointer sisters to count to 12 in a catchy pinball cartoon.

sit the fuck down before i can't.
oh, wait, i already can't. i caaaaaaaaaaaan't with these people and have no qualms about slicing between them and seat(s) in question and stealing the vacant bastard fair and square. it's bad enough i have to step over baby carriages and rolly suitcases to get there, but when an incompetent human poses as yet another superfluous obstacle to a peaceful commute, i sprout devil horns and want to slash some throats.

and that's today.
xo
b.a.

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