Toe-Thumb

At this point, I can handle just about anything on the subway. I once saw a hasidic man with Downs Syndrome hock a loogie on his shoe. One time on the F train, I saw a couple achieve simultaneous orgasm before exiting the train at my stop. I've seen people practice made up karate, complete with screams and Bruce Lee flourish at the end.

This sort of thing, I can handle. At least I know where I stand with karate man. I understand how we fit into each other's lives.

Yesterday, a guy started talking to me about my sneakers. Evidently, he had once owned a similar pair. Great. Not that interesting a conversation, but knock yourself out. But then he leaned down and rubbed his enormous, weird, big-toe-esque thumb across my entire shoe to accent the fact that both his pair and mine had been suede.

And now it's awkward.

Not for him, you understand. He clearly didn't think twice about this sort of physical contact. But I'm from Connecticut. We don't touch. We'll hug amongst our own families, but just barely (and mostly just in case other families are watching.)

So it changed from an odd conversation about Adidas into me pretending to have that conversation while thinking about nothing but the giant, calloused, cracked toe-thumb.

Listen, god bless you and your crazy toe-thumb. Whatever happened to that thumb, fella, you're living with it, and good for you. But maybe try being a little sensitive about who is ready to touch the thing.

Thank you in advance for never toe-thumbing me again.

Valentine's Day, brought to you by People Who Sell Red Things!

Now, I know there are plenty of you out there who don't know where Valentine's Day comes from. You are just vaguely aware that if you don't do what Hallmark tells you, you're somehow not fully human. Oh, and buy candy.

Personally, I ditched the whole, "this is what everybody's doing today," business in about 8th grade. But in honor of the holiday, I felt that this year I should give you a little history lesson about Saint Valentine. This way, you can feel like you're really celebrating something important.

Valentine's Day is in honor of Saint Valentine, a catholic priest who lived in about 300 A.D. I saw a website that said he lived in,

"...the year 300. It was either A.D. or B.C. I can't remember which."

Ok, first of all, why type that sentence? Just look it up, and then create your website. Secondly, if he's a Catholic priest, let's see if we can puzzle out which one it was. Hmm...Catholics were pretty few and far between 300 years before the birth of Christ, wouldn't you guess? Only the most progressive of priests were in the game at that point. "Look, he'll be here, ok? Don't worry about it. Now, eat this bread and tell me you're sorry for stuff and nevermind why!"

Anyway, the Roman emperor at the time had outlawed marriage (take that you nancy-pants "no gay marriage" people. This guy went after all marriage. How do your moral values feel now? Pretty sissy, huh? Yeah, thought so.) Saint Valentine married people anyway. He was caught and, in accordance with the custom of the day, beaten to death with clubs. (Hey, when in Rome, right?)

Now, when you think of beating a priest to death with clubs, you can see what an easy transition it must have been to the part where 5 year olds are giving each other candy and sending cards that say things that they couldn't possibly understand to other 5 year olds that they barely know.

Come to think of it, I don't even understand these cards. "Be my Valentine?" What do you want from me? Are you asking me to get beaten to death in accordance with Roman law? Because if so, uh...no. No thank you, indeed.

My bowl of mints fantasy

Whenever I'm at a restaurant and I see that bowl of those chalky mints at the register with the spoon in it, I have a little fantasy. It goes like this:

Two guys walk up to pay for their dinner. Guy Number One grabs a handful of mints out of the bowl. Guy Number Two is shocked.

G2: "Oh my god, man, that is disGUSTing."

G1: "What's your problem?"

G2: "Dude, you just stuck your friggin' hand in the bowl!"

G1: "So?"

G2: "Why do you think they have the spoon? Jesus!"

At this point, Guy Number Two picks up the spoon, and shovels a spoonful of mints directly into his mouth, returning the spoon to the bowl.

-scene-

A little extra nerdity...

People, I have seen the future. Even now, as I sit on the A train to Brooklyn, listening to the dulcet tones of the Starland Vocal Band in their classic, "Afternoon Delight", even now, I am hammering out this blog entry for you. I am able to do this through the magic of technology, specifically by using my Pocket PC. It's like a Palm Pilot, but less cool. Oh yeah.

You see, having a blog isn't nerdy enough. No. Not even having a Pocket PC is enough. Not by a long shot. And as I nearly miss my transfer (an unfortunate side effect of a little piece of magic called "She's Gone" brought to me by the very talented Darryl Hall and his moustachioed little friend) it finally comes home to me. Only by combining these two can I truly geek it out to the fullest.

Now, I will just bet that there were those of you out there who were thinking that I was already there, even before this technological miracle. And from all of you, I believe I deserve an apology.

And as a side note, to whomever it is here on the train with me creating that smell, you know what? Good for you. Your scent may not be my personal cup of tea, but that makes it no less of an accomplishment. All greatness is under-appreciated, and so it shall be with you, sir. Or madam. (See that? That's called 'gender equality', people. Look it up sometime.)

Well, I am nearly home and so I will sign off. I have seen the future, people, and it is me. And it is also just shamefully geeky.

Lifetime Movies

Last night on LifeTime, there was a movie called, "A Face to Kill For" starring Crystal Bernard as a horribly scarred woman who was framed by her eville boyfriend. She goes to jail, gets out, meets a nice plastic surgeon, gets all purty, and then goes about getting revenge.

This is not to be confused with LifeTime's other movie, "A Face to Die For," starring Yasmine Bleeth in...well it's the same exact story. Exactly. Well, except that in this one, there's somebody named "Bleeth". That's the big difference right there. That's how they getcha.

Ok, now, these films were both on the same stupid network. How did this happen? Several scenarios come to mind.

1. They just fell asleep at the wheel, and plum forgot that they had already made the exact same film but with a different...uh..."star"?
2. It was like the whole Alexander the Great thing where suddenly everybody and their mother was making one for no good reason at all.
3. They made the first film and thought, "That was real good. Gimme that one again!" Or, perhaps the studio head is a 2 year old, and when he likes a film, he just shouts, "Do 'gain!!!!"
4. (my favorite) One of the films is an homage to the other one, it being such a classic. God, I hope this is the one.

My Huskies lost the other day.

And it's not my fault. I wore my UConn tanktop AND hat. What more was I supposed to do? I'm only the one guy, over here.

Ah, who am I kidding? We all know that they lost because I didn't do pushups at the end of the game when the team needed a boost. That's how I won them their first national championship back in 1999.

Maybe I didn't do my pushups because I was suddenly overcome with the realization that I'm not on the team. I'm not even on a team. And I'm certainly not on THE "A-team."

I pity the fool who is me.