I HATE MASS TRANSIT

It has recently come to my attention that I hate almost everyone, which I realized largely by my New Job. But this post isn't about my New Job. This is about the bane of my existence: COMMUTING.





I live in the greatest city on this planet, and it's a real shame because I hate it so much. I think I would like it a lot better were it not for the crappy transit system and the mutants that I'm required to ride with. Today I have for you a preliminary list of things to not do while on mass transit.

1. No shaving. This is in fact the inspiration for this blog post. Yesterday, I was riding the subway when, to my horror, the guy sitting across from me whipped out his electric razor and began shaving his face. Like, what? I kept thinking to myself, Is this seriously happening right now? Indeed it was. It's like as if I were to whip out a Bic and start shaving my legs or my underarms on the subway. There are a million reasons why this is inappropriate behavior. I don't mean to sound like an uptight bitch, but shaving on the subway? It's gross. It wasn't even like the guy looked like a total schlub and needed a shave. He could have made it until he got home that night, or even to work. There is no reason why you can't take care of that in your house, where you can clean up afterward.

2. No clipping your fingernails. I find this kind of mysterious. Everyone who rides mass transit hates this, complains about it, and still people do it. I think that some people are flip-flopping, because I have never heard anyone express the opinion that they are totally fine with people clipping their fingernails on mass transit. This, I think, is possibly worse than shaving because you never know where those little fuckers are going to go. Wait until you get home. Wait until you get to work and do it in the bathroom, but on the bus? Seriously?

3. No flossing. I have personally never seen this one, but my roommate told me that she did. But again with the personal hygiene on the mass transit. Yuck. Do you not have a home?

4. Do not use mass transit without deodorizing first. Why do New Yorkers refuse to take care of their personal hygiene before they leave their apartments in the morning? I refuse to believe that there are that many people in this city who have serious sweating problems. And I'm not even talking about the evening rush hour. I can be flexible with people being a little stinky during evening rush hour because they've not had a chance since the morning to deodorize unless they're like me and they carry around a little mini stick of deodorant. But during morning rush hour? When everyone is mushed together, arms up, and you just came from your apartment? Why do you smell this bad?

5. Do not put your bags on the seat during rush hour. That's just rude. I know that some people think that their lives will be that much better if they don't have a seatmate, but they are wrong. Life will go on.

6. Do not ask your seatmate "where exactly" they live. Ok, I was on the bus the other day on my way home from class late at night, and my seatmate decided to strike up a conversation with me. I was totally fine with this. I like to chat, but I was more than slightly creeped out when he asked me, "So, you live around here? Where exactly do you live?" I was speechless, and of course I made something up because, like, why would I tell a strange man on the bus "where exactly" I live? What was this person thinking? Creepy and awful. Don't do it. Ever.

God, I wish my car was conducive to my environment right now.

Love,
B

HOW NOT TO SOUND LIKE A PRETENTIOUS DOUCHE

Yesterday at Daycare, I have two children with special names. The first was a girl named Qwynne. Congratulations, you've managed to spell your child's 6-letter name with only one vowel. Asshole. You're kid's never going to be able to remember that a "U" always follows a "Q."

The second kid was named Kevyn. What's with all these "Y"s? I know English wants you to think that they're the same as an "I", but actually, they're not.

I've decided to be a pretentious douche and name my kid Dayvyd or Mychael. It horrifies me to think that someone has probably done that. Awesome.

-B.

FOR DOUCHY UNIVERSITIES, PT 2

Dear Mr. Dr. President of the University,

It has once again come to my attention that things are going awry in your Extremely Prestigious University. The secretary must have hidden my first letter to you, because she was afraid that you’d pull a Ronald Reagan and they’d all lose their jobs for sucking so hard.

As a recent graduate of your University, I want to let you know that your people there continue to haunt my soul. In particular, I hate your financial aid office. Thank God that some of your students are proactive, otherwise nothing would ever get done.

I have recently gotten a new job that required that I give them an official copy of my college transcript. I signed onto my.ExtremelyPrestigiousUniversity.edu, and found that in the two months since I finished my final semester, no one has notified me that I have a hold on my account, and cannot receive a copy of my transcript. Additionally, my diploma cannot be released between January 31, 2011 to December 31, 2099. Excuse me Sir, but does it not occur to your people to notify me by email or letter or God forbid, phone, that I owe you people $1000 in order to walk at graduation or, you know, receive my diploma in the mail.

Of course it doesn’t.

I weep for the students who aren’t as proactive as me. Of course, I called the University to get to the bottom of the matter. After 45 minutes, I was finally able to speak to a financial aid representative who told me of the alleged $1000 that I owe you people. Whatever.

The next week, to my surprise, a package comes in the mail from your Extremely Prestigious University. What is inside? My diploma! Good job, good job indeed! While I was not displeased to see it at all, I couldn’t help wonder which idiot in your administration had sent it, considering the fact that it wasn’t allowed to be released to me from “January 31, 2011 to December 31, 2099.” I swear, the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing in there.

Anyway, later that week, I go in to pay that shit. In cash. One thousand pesos. I make sure to get a receipt. While I’m there, I put in a transcript request form.

I wait. A week passes, no transcript. Finally, your people call me to let me know that they can’t process my transcript because there’s a hold on my account. Well, well, well. What a surprise. Sir, this is why your mother told you to hold onto your receipts. After working the glitch out for them, I am promised that my transcript is being sent out “on Friday.” After four years of this bullcrap,I know not to hold my breath.

Lo and behold, that shit doesn’t show up for three weeks.

Congratulations on your smoothly-run University,
A Disgruntled Graduate

BOSSY-ASS BITCHES

Hello ladies and gents. It’s been a while, but I’ve decided that since I’ve stopped going to therapy, it’s probably best that I start updating the blog once again. I figure that I should just right in, rip off the band –aid, whatever you want to say.

Today we’re going to be talking about that bossy-ass bitch at my job.

In the past month, I have started a New Job at a New Daycare. Let’s say that I had one day of “training” before I was thrown into the busiest week that we have all year. I’m not complaining about this, because you know what? It’s the best way to learn a new system. I was trained well in a relatively short amount of time.

Now, about two and a half weeks after I started, a new girl started. I hadn’t had the pleasure of working with her until about a week ago, and boy, was she a charmer.

Actually, she wasn’t. She was a bossy-ass bitch. I mean, fuck, was she bossy. It started during check-in, and didn’t stop until I left the facility in the afternoon. This bitch was telling me what to do, telling me that “So-And-So likes it like this in her room.” Oh , I’m sorry. I’m too busy doing everything to really handle doing such-and-such that So-And-So likes done. Bitch, please. I know how So-And-So likes things done in her room, you don’t need to be telling me. If you would like to have it done immediately, then you can do it now. Do I look like I’m taking my sweet-ass time? No, I’m not. I’m trying to check three children into the room while you have your thumb up your ass.

It’s not like I don’t like to be told how to do things when I’m doing them wrong. But there’s no way that I’m checking three children into the room, labeling them, labeling their food, their diapers, their clothes, and you’re going to be telling me how it’s done. Can you not see it in action? I’m doing it now. Am I not checking all three in fast enough? Well then get up off your ass, and label some shit. I know you want me to start “transitioning the child” because Mommy’s about the leave, but you know what? This shit needs to be labeled now, and it needs to be labeled properly because if it’s not and it isn’t, we get in big, big trouble. I’ll leave the transitioning to you, thanks.

Additionally, it’s always nice for people to correct you in a kindly manner. This is how we learn. If I’m doing something wrong, by all means, let me know. However, what’s not ok is to condescend to someone that you’ve just met. For five hours. Hello, yes, I’m sorry, I know you’re fresh out of high school, so I’ll give you this little news flash: you are not the center of the world, and you don’t know it all.

Thanks,
B

GUEST BLOGGER #1

After my first attempt at a guest-blogger has gone up in smoke, I am pleased to announce that I have received another guest-blogging entry from a dear dear friend of mine (ie my BFFF). So, without further ado, I give you... Kristina...

Let me open by saying that I know college is important and that everyone should have an opportunity to better him or herself through education. Let me then add that college, while important and seemingly essential, is NOT for everyone. Repeat: NOT. FOR. EVERYONE. And in this entry in particular, I am talking about crazy people.

Now. I know that people can’t help being crazy. I know that depression and disorders are all perfectly human and I would never set out to argue that they are illegitimate or SOMETHING SMALL. But I ask you crazy people out there to remember this simple mantra, from me to you, and in the spirit of proper Bettiquette:

If you can’t get your life together, you shouldn’t be in college.

This is practical and simple Bettiquette: If you can’t take care of yourself, you do not belong in an educational institution where your life and success depends directly on what you are capable of putting into it. For the sake of others, FIGURE YOURSELF OUT FIRST—THEN COME TO COLLEGE. Let us explore some areas in which you would be infringing upon the sanity and functionality of others.

1. Your roommate - It all seems well and fine until your roommate finds out about, oh, say, your special meds that you refuse to take and your therapy sessions that you don’t attend, because of whatever reason. A simple, happy relationship and rapport cannot be maintained when you wake up in a bad mood and decide to vent it all onto the person you share a room with.

Examples:

• Do not scream, “You hate me!” at your friends and roommates every time a normal but uncomfortable issue comes up a la being asked to turn down the volume of the TV.
• Do not tell your roommate about your bipolar medication that you don’t take because it makes you feel a certain way, and then start a passive-aggressive paranoia fest in the room.
• Do not tell tiny compulsive lies about your roommate that seem insignificant, but add up because you want something else (ie, you want to spend all your time in your boyfriend’s room but his roommate is getting pissed off, so you lie and say “My room always has my roommate in it so I can’t go there”, when your roommate explicitly leaves for hours so you can sex it up all you want)

2. Your professors AND your roommate - You’re depressed. I understand that. But that means you’re not getting out of bed in the morning, and therefore you are missing your 8:30. And, since you’ve missed your 8:30, why not skip your 10 o’clock? And all your classes for the day? Or maybe the next two days? Or maybe the entire week? Lets face it…if you can’t get your own life in check, how do you expect to go out and worry about what your professors expect you do to, let alone what you need to do for yourself?

Examples:

• You will not go to class. You will piss off your professors, because they will either be tired if your constant excuses, or irritated that you never give any excuse or reason for missing their class and not completing their work. This isn’t high school!
• You will piss off your friends, who will initially feel bad that you are failing out of school, and then rapidly lose sympathy because they realize that, while you are expected to go to the same amount of classes as them and put in the same amount of work as them, you have done neither of those things all semester. In addition, instead of proactively addressing the issue, you will use the system to your advantage to be excused from projects, essays, etc, and your friends will resent you for using your depression to get ahead in school, but not doing anything to cure said depression or insisting that you “really aren’t depressed” and “don’t need help”.
• You will piss off your parents. See below.
  

3. Your parents - Hey, it’s not easy to tell your parents that you need to put off going to college because you need to see a therapist instead. But isn’t it worse when you tell your parents that you hate school, you failed out halfway through the year, and that the college still expects you to pay for the room and tuition? Oh, and now you still need a therapist and you have to pay off student loans.

Examples:

• You will lie to them, telling them how great college is and telling them all about your classes and projects. You will lure them into a false sense of security, wherein they will say to themselves, “How grown up my child is!” You will then betray their trust when you call them up and say “Mom? Blankity Blank University has asked me not to come back.”
• You will get extensions and ask for incompletes up the yingyang—but you won’t do the work. You are too sick/ too depressed/ too sad/ too angry to think about anything else. And ultimately, you will only end up prolonging your expulsion and failure, and waste more money on your failed education.

So, for god sakes and for the sanity of others: PLEASE LEARN ABOUT YOURSELF BEFORE YOU LEARN HOW TO BE AROUND OTHERS. Get your own shit together before your very understanding but increasingly impatient roommates want to murder you. And most of all don’t come to college UNLESS YOU HAVE YOUR OWN SHIT UNDER CONTROL.

You’ll be much happier for it.

Trust me.