Wee Wee Y'All!
Loyal GMYH reader and Mr. 2000 himself, Jason "Wee Wee" Whitney, was recently spotlighted in the Richmond Palladium-Item for being a wildly successful restauranteur. Once again, a member of the Sigma class is overachieving. Good work Wee. Now, if you would only update your blog.
Morning L Etiquette
If you're like me -- and for your sake, I hope not -- then there are many things that really piss you off. One of those is when people talk on a crowded L train -- whether it's on their cell phone or to someone else on the train -- especially in the morning when everyone is trying their best to silently come to grips with the coming work day.
This morning, the Brown Line was packed. Standing next to me was a couple, probably in their late 20s, neither of them terribly attractive or graced with social manners. The guy was reading the Red Eye (the free, dumbed-down, Maxim-inspired version of the Tribune, for those of you not in Chicago), and he made a point to orally give his opinion on every story. This wasn't just a slight whisper so only his wife could hear, either. It was unnecessarily loud, ensuring that everyone on the whole damn train could hear what he apparently thought were his witty takes on everything from Mark Prior to John McCain.
Here's a smattering of the shit I had to endure for the 15 minutes it took to get from Diversey to the Merchandise Mart stop, where the guy's wife got off, thereby ending his access to someone who put up with him:
- "I hate Mark Prior. I don't even care. I'm so sick of him. I really hate him." This is what I heard when I first walked onto the train. Now, I don't really have an opinion on Mark Prior (for those who don't know, Prior is a once-revered Cubs pitcher who is out for the season -- again), but I certainly don't hate him, and I'm even a Sox fan. So Prior's body has the defense system of a late-stage AIDS victim. It's no reason to hate him. If I could get paid a few million dollars to sit around for several seasons, you better believe I would.
- He then went on some all-too-audible diatribe about how baseball players are overpaid and he hates when they have labor disputes because "they make millions and shouldn't complain about anything." It was at this point where I was very close to saying to the girl on the other side of me, as loud as possible, "Hey there attractive stranger, you know what I hate? When people on a packed train won't shut the fuck up."
- "I just about gave up on the NFL last time they had a strike." The last time the NFL players had a strike was 1987, jackass. Remember that? You were 7. I'm guessing you didn't know why and didn't care why Mike Hohensee was playing instead of Jim McMahon for three damn games. I fucking hate you.
- Upon reading that police figured out that Cho Seung-Hui fired a total of 170 rounds during his killing spree, the dude says (in a tone suggesting that he believes what he is saying is groundbreaking forensic investigation), "You know how I bet they figured that out? From bullet shells they found on the ground. Yep, I bet they counted the shells." Good Lord, you think? So what you're telling me is that the Blacksburg Police Department used the most basic and probably the most-used technique for determining how many shots were fired? Until he said that, I had just assumed they had relied on the combination of time travel, eyewitness accounts (since I assume most people were counting), an elaborate system of ropes and pulleys, and the chick from Medium.
- "Who do you think is going to be the Democratic Presidential candidate, Obama, Hillary Clinton, or Giuliani?" Luckily his wife was slightly more bright than he was, so she explained that Giuliani is actually a Republican candidate. He then explained that he would vote for McCain, "if I actually voted for the President." The reason he doesn't vote: "My vote doesn't count." Nor should it.
- "So if Hillary gets elected, will Bill Clinton be called the First Husband or the First Lady?" Almost punched him after this one. Then he went on to explain his firm belief that being the "First Husband" would be "emasculating for Bill." I'm pretty sure Bill Clinton isn't worried about his manhood being weakened by the fact that he and his wife would be the first-ever husband-wife team of Presidents. And the fact that he would be back in Washington would mean that he would pretty much be getting laid all the time.
- The wife mentioned that Bill would probably be called "Mr. President." This sparked what I'm sure this guy believed to be creative ingenuity, when he said, "So then do you think people would say 'Good morning Mr. and Mrs. President'?" The wife found this funny, such that she laughed out loud for 10-15 seconds, which only encouraged him.
- He compared Rosie O'Donnell to a tantrum-prone 5-year-old, which prompted his wife to laugh out loud, as if it was hilarious. So he made the comparison again. And again. And again. This went on for like 5 minutes, while he tried to come up with new ways to say "Rosie O'Donnell is like a 5-year-old" or "It's like Rosie O'Donnell is a 5-year-old." Despite his inability to vary his delivery or message, she laughed each time. I guarantee these two watch a lot of MADtv.
My only hope is that I don't have to be next to them (or on the same train car as them) again tomorrow, so that I can be spared from such comments as:
- "You know how they could determine whether or not Curt Shilling's socks from the 2004 ALCS and World Series had blood on them? I think a surefire way to find out would be to test the socks to see if the red substance on them is blood. I bet that's how you could find out."
- "I can't believe Congress passed that bill with a deadline for the war. You know, I just about gave up on Congress after they passed the Mann Act."
- "Oh, the guy who sang 'Monster Mash' died. I always thought that song made that guy sound like Boris Karloff." Then he sings the song and boisterous laughter ensues from the wife, and he repeats the same two sentences forty-six more times.
- Upon reading that Hugh Grant was arrested for throwing baked beans at a photographer: "I hate beans. I don't even care. I'm so sick of them. I really hate them."