Tag Archives: train thoughts


Yesterday I became a Comic Dude.

I went and bought Watchmen (which is fucking awesome) and I started reading it on the train ride home, feeling everyone’s eyes upon me.

I understand people judging me, because 1) I do this all the time and 2) when I think about Adults Who Read Comic Books, I think of this:

All of that.

The stomach, the bad clothes, the pony tail, the yellow skin.  Okay, maybe not the yellow skin.


Definitely the yellow skin.

I even got the harshest criticism from Ari, who is great and loves me, but referred to my new purchase as “My dork book.”

I was a little tentative about the whole thing.

This isn’t to say I’m not a fan of comics, I was raised on The Punisher and Batman, thanks to having an older brother who would only punch me eight times when I tried to read his comics without asking.

So I get the whole comic book thing.

But I just didn’t know if I was ready to be That Guy.

Then right before I bought Watchmen, I twittered about how I was questioning this Major Decision, and I got some support from other bloggers, which made me feel better.  Even though those bloggers were both attractive women which means they can do whatever they want and everyone will think, “I can’t believe she does that.  But she’s hot.  So it’s cool.”

I thought about all of this, and I chose to become a Comic Dude.

I’m not afraid of what others may think of me, because I know that deep down in my heart I am Cool, and as long as I know that, then it doesn’t matter what people think about me.

Plus, when people look upon me reading my comic, and I sense that they are about to say something like, “Nice comic book dork!  Your Mom buy that for you?” I will look up from my reading material and reply, “No, she didn’t, and I am not ashamed to read comics as an adult!  Also, just so you know, I will be blogging about this!!!”

That should shut them up.


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cupid can go to hell

Everyone falls in love, right?

At one point in your life, you’re going to feel all squishy inside for someone and then want to show everyone how you feel about that person.

So you buy them flowers.

Or you hold hands. But hopefully not for too long because holding hands is just so un-fucking-natural that it doesn’t make sense to do it for more than a block or two.

I can take seeing couples Being Sweet to each other and all that crap, but I can’t take Extreme Public Displays Of Affection.

This morning on the way to the office, there were two couples who crossed this line.

One woman was hugging her boyfriend the entire time. I was on the c for fifteen minutes. She hugged this dude for fifteen fucking minutes.

It almost drove me insane.

I was this close to blurting out, “Okay! We get it! You love each other! Now just stop it, please? Grab hold of the rail like everyone else and stop being such a fucking idiot.”

Then there was the couple sitting down in front of me.

They were making out.

I could see their fucking tongues go into each other’s mouths and it almost made me choke them to death.

And I think I really might have if choking someone to death wasn’t Frowned Upon by the police. Because then they’d arrest me and I’d have to go to jail and I’d probably join a gang and then become Leader Of The Gang because I’m good at coming up with nicknames and gangs always have nicknames for the members.

The worst part about these two couples was that they were both in their late twenties.

They weren’t teens with Raging Hormones and zits.


I don’t need to see that you’re In Love.

Because while things are great and you can’t keep your tongue off his cheek now, half of all people who get married get divorced.

Snuggle Bear doesn’t like hearing that does he?

No, Snuggle Bear doesn’t.


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so you won’t be lonely

I’m a huge fan of hip-hop – I love it. At any time you can check what I’m listening to on my iPhone and it will be some type of hip-hop.

And if it’s not, you’ll probably find me rocking out to some Awesome 80’s Song, like this.

One of my favorite songs, and a song that Makes Me Happy, is Bone Thugs-N-Harmony’s “First of the Month.”

The song is amazing.

If you don’t like this song, there is something really, seriously, very wrong with you.

Honestly, stop reading right now and call a Loved One. Tell them you’re sick and that you’re sorry that you suck but please take me to the nearest hospital. The doctor will probably diagnose you with Being Stupid, and you’ll be released under a strict regime of Awesome Music Suggested By Chris and maybe – just maybe – you’ll be normal again one day.

I was listening to this gem of a song yesterday on the train home from work, and it occurred to me how odd of a group Bone Thugs-N-Harmony was.

I mean, how could they be so street, when they were basically a choir?

Even their name was slightly off.

You’ve got Bone, which is pretty scary in general. No one likes hearing about bones and it’s also got that pirate connection and usually those guys were Not Nice.

Then you’ve got Thugs, which is even more scary than Bone. Everyone is scared of Thugs. They do bad things like talk loudly about subjects that make rich people nervous.

The group was on the right track – and then they decided to add Harmony. No one is bothered by Harmony. In fact, I just surveyed three people, and all of them said they prefer Harmony.

So what happened?

I imagine one of the guys, the one that no one really likes but got into the group because he let the other guys play his Sega Genesis, suggested it.

Then they had to approve it, because, really – how can you not when someone holds the power of video games over your head?

This – I believe – was the ultimate downfall of Bone Thugs-N-Harmony. They were a supremely talented group of guys, but they were just a glorified men’s choir, left to sing about Tha Crossroads and how difficult they can be.

I can’t tell you why we die, Wish Bone, but I sure can tell you why you don’t make music anymore.


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My thoughts while on the train home from work last night went something like this:

“Man, I don’t know how it happened, but somehow Boyz II Men let “End of the Road” become their defining song, when “Motown Philly” is way better – and really, it’s one of the most underrated songs of all time.”

“Wait a sec, what the fuck is that???”

“That” was this.

fucking wrong

Look at the size of that fucking bag on her hip.

Now, I know that North Face has somehow become ultra cool here, but this is taking it a step too far.

Last I checked there weren’t any mountain ranges here, so maybe you should take off the fucking gear before you knock someone out with that thing.

What can you possibly have in there?

I mean, I saw the knock-off Gucci’s you got from Canal Street poking out of there. And look, everyone knows they’re fake, so congrats on owning a pair of sunglasses that I can find at Duane Reade.

And if you don’t mind, can I just jump in there? My feet are kinda tired and I’d love the lift home. It’ll be fun! It’ll be like I’m in a sidecar on a motorcycle, only I’m sure sidecars don’t have tampons and lipstick in them. Though maybe they do.

Also, I know shit from North Face is mad overpriced, so you definitely paid too much for it. I imagine it must’ve been a tough decision: “Let’s see, this bag is fucking huge, totally unnecessary, and costs over $200… I’ll take it!”

But I haven’t even brought up the worst part yet, which makes me think that maybe you made A Mistake.

In fact, I know you made A Mistake – because no matter how much it cost and no matter what brand name is on it, you’re still rocking a fanny-pack.

fucking wrong in ‘93



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i’m going to be a good dad

Quick note:  Ashley asked me to guest post on her blog, so if your thirst for my amazing writing is not quenched by today’s post, go check it out. 

Let me begin by saying that I like kids. I mean, I like them enough not to want to punch them.


But sometimes I see kids and I find myself thinking, “I think maybe I’m not a good person.”

Yesterday after work was one of those times.

I was sitting on the train, trying to remember whether or not white American cheese was the Real American Cheese or if it was yellow that was The Real Thing, when a man and his son sat down directly across from me.

I looked at the kid.  He seemed harmless.

His outfit, however, made me extremely upset.

First of all, the very fact that I called it an “outfit” makes me angry.  Kids shouldn’t have outfits.  I had an outfit on.   I am old.  This kid was dressed better than I was.

He was wearing some nice, dark jeans, stylish kicks, and a blazer with a long sleeve shirt under it.  A blazer!

I think it may have been the blazer that pushed me over the edge.

Listen to me: Kids do not need to look good. If your kid is dressed like a 25 year-old, there’s something wrong.  Your kid doesn’t give a fuck what he’s wearing.  He cares about two things: Do today’s boogers taste good, and could that Lego castle he built fit more cookies in it.

Stop with the dressing up of little kids.  It’s fucking ridiculous.

I’ll tell you what, my kids won’t be wearing blazers.  I’ll send those fuckers to school wearing a garbage bag with holes cut out for his head and legs.

His arms will get a hole if he eats all his vegetables.


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There’s a lot of pressure on you when you read something on the train.  Same goes for people who read in public anywhere – people are watching you and judging you.

Some people read the Times.  These are the Smart People.  These are also the people who think paying $1.25 for a paper is Something That Is Worth It.  They like to eat at places with only one word for the name, like “Tao” and “Water.”

Some people read the Journal.  These are the Business People.  These are also the people who you’ll see typing away on their Berry at 6:57 in the morning, trying to look like they are sending Important Emails, when in fact, they are playing solitaire.  And losing.

Some people read Intelligent Books About Confusing Things.  These are the Subject Snobs.  These are also the people who like to kill conversations at parties about how no one ever died in the G.I. Joe cartoon, with comments like, “Sometimes I wonder what Marx would’ve thought about our current economic state.”  They are fuckers.

Some people read magazines about People Who Are Rich And Famous But Still Suck Anyway.  These are the Brain Dead.  These are also the people who have officially given up, thinking, “Well, learning about things is just too hard, so I’ll just stick to what Jessica Simpson wore to the gas station today – crazy!”

Some people don’t read anything and judge all the people who are reading things – then blog about it the next day.

These are the Cool People.


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saving the youth

You know who pisses me off? Those kids on the trains who sell candy bars. If you live here you know what I’m talking about.

The door clangs open, and even above the music in your headphones you hear, “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, my name is [some stupid teen name] and I’m here selling candy bars. Not for no school or basketball team, but for me, to keep myself off the streets and to make some money.”

And then, much to the fat people on the trains dismay, “Unfortunately, all I have today is M&M’s and Starburst.” Like we all just figured he’d be fully stocked with everything from Snickers to Almond Joys.

Fuck these kids.

Go get a fucking job. Go take your ass to Wendy’s and fill out an application. And try the Frosty while you’re there – they’re fucking amazing.

Don’t tell me about keeping yourself off the streets. You obviously aren’t hard up for cash, seeing how you’re rocking some new kicks and a nice, leather jacket.

Oh, and thanks for “keeping it real” with me by telling me that it’s not for a school or a basketball team.

Because you were so honest with me, I’ll give you my dollar, add some fat to my stomach and keep you fuckers in business.

I mean, can I do this?

On my way home from work today I’m gonna step on the train, pull out a bag of bic pens and announce, “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, my name is Chris, and I’m here selling bic pens. Not for no corporation or Office Max, but for me, to keep myself out of my office and to make some money. Unfortunately all I have today is blue ink.”

No. I can’t fucking do that.

So do me a favor candy bar selling teens, next time you feel the urge to make some cash, try applying for a job instead of setting a terrible example for kids even younger than you.

You can thank me later.


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