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Because I feel like it…..

The Last Train to Hell

dol

 

 

Salton Greystone was on his deathbed. At the age of ninety three he had survived an attempted takeover of his corporation, four divorces and a fire that burned 30 percent of his body when he was 50 years old. The doctors were amazed that he survived the fire, but his family took it as par for the course. There wasn’t enough fire in all of hell to burn Salton down.

Salton sat in bed eating the greasy bacon and egg breakfast. He gulped his coffee and thumbed through Variety where he read an unflattering article about himself and his feud with his good for nothing son.

Salton had grown to hate both of his children. At first he hadn’t known what to make of them; slimy little alien looking things that had been presented to him after exiting his wife’s naughty. He was grateful that they had been born before all this nonsense about the father being present during the birth. He was perfectly happy not to see the vile creatures emerging from what had once been much sought after territory.

He had liked them for a little while. From the time they were six to ten they had been pleasant little distractions to play with and talk to a couple times a week. The girl was smart and had a sharp curiosity about daddy’s business. The boy was slow and plump and could be entertained for hours by the simplest of toys. Salton never imagined that they would grow into the greedy monsters that they were today.

He put down the magazine in disgust. He flipped on the television to find news of the election. He thought he heard the flip flop of unwelcomed high heels in the hallway.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Abigail Greystone began the morning on a bad note. She had fallen asleep in her office and awaken to the sound of the maid vacuuming in the hall. She showered and changed there without even going home. She had breakfasted at a random greasy spoon on the way to the hospital where the aspiring actor waiter had pretended he didn’t know who she was and flirted with her. People had been trying to play her with that kind of nonsense all of her life and she found it tiresome and insulting. Her driver arrived late and they had been stuck in traffic for over twenty minutes.

She sighed and tried to toughen up as she approached her father’s hospital room. She wondered if she would hear from Bubbles later that afternoon. Bubbles was the topless waitress for whom her father had left her mother. She had made a clumsy attempt at gaining control of the Greystone empire before the aging patriarch had caught wise and filed for divorce. Bubbles now called Abigail quite often, demanding the money to which she felt entitled. Abigail was in the process of attempting to get a restraining order against the psychotic bimbo.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Barb Platt sat on the end of her bed completely exhausted. She dreaded the prospect of working yet another double shift at the hospital. She realized she had no choice, she owed thousands of dollars in student loans to McKinley College and she only made thirteen dollars an hour.

Barb looked out the window of her tiny room at the Rosslyn Hotel. There was a bum ranting about Jesus in the cold morning rain. Barb sighed and headed down the hall to take a quick shower.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Walter Greystone left his hotel suite to breakfast at Circa 55. He ordered a fruit salad as was his custom when visiting Los Angeles. He came once a month to visit his father in hopes of a reconciliation, but the chances of this happening before the old man caught the last train to Hell were waning.

Just as he was about to take his first sip of coffee, Trisha walked into the room. He rose slightly to greet her. She gave him a peck on each cheek and told him he looked great. She looked great as well. Long dark hair framed her symmetrical face and cascaded down towards her soft curves. She sat down across from him and ordered a cup of coffee.

Although she was seven years his junior, Trisha was Walter’s ex stepmother; he had always adored her. He hated when his sister referred to her as Bubbles. She had been a waitress in a strip club briefly, in her early twenties, but she had gone on to a career as a set tutor for child actors. Walter had always found her quiet warm and enchanting.

The two chatted about this and that as they nibbled on their fruit plates. After a while the conversation turned to unpleasant matters.

“Have you talked to him on the phone recently,” she asked.

“Last week,” he said. “Half the time he says hello, ask me how I am and proceeds to tell me what a piece of shit I am. The other half of the time he’s so looped out on drugs or demntia he doesn’t know who I am, or thinks I’m still five years old.”

“It’s too bad you can’t just talk to him just when he’s in that demented state, he’d be more agreeable.”

“Right, maybe I should try to find out exactly what he’s on from his doctor and slip extras into his Frango mints.”

“Maybe.”

“Will he talk to you?”

“Only if Abigail doesn’t find out about it.”

“Good old Abby. She certainly does have him snowed.

“She got a restraining order against me. An actual restraining order.”

“Does that surprise you? Really? She’s awfully jealous of you. I mean you’re younger and prettier than her and you don’t have to work as hard for my father’s attention. I mean she was a straight A student, she was class president at Georgetown and an Editor of the Law Review and even with all that you were his main girl. Not that I can blame him….” He said with a sly smile.

She smiled back. The two of them decided to do some shopping before heading over to the hospital to see Salton.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Abigail entered her father’s hospital room to find her father angrily flipping from station to station.

“Hi, Dad”

“Hello.”

“Watchya watching.”

“All the shows that aren’t mine, thanks to you.”

“I’m trying my very best, dad. I’m fine and how are you?”
“I’m 92 and about to die.”

“Look I wanted to talk to you about selling Pensky. Trimens is offering us 140 million.” I brought the proposal,” she said handing him the papers.

“Why,” he asked.

“Why do I want to talk to you about it or why are they offering us 140 million?”

“The latter, of course.”

“Well, they feel that the company would be an asset to them and it has become something of a liability to us.”

“I don’t feel like talking about that right now,” he snapped.

“Well, I’m afraid we have to talk about it really soon.”

“Why is someone else going to sell it to them?”

“No I just mean that…”

“That what? That I might die and you won’t be able to profit as much?”

“No…I”

“Look, Abigail, you might as well know about this now. I’m putting Sunbees in charge for a bit.

“Sunbees!? What the fuck? How can you do this to me I’ve worked my ass off for this company and I….”

 

Their conversation was interrupted by the clanking of clumsily driven cart. Barb Platt, Salton’s least favorite PCA was there to give him his pills and his bath.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Abigail whispered hotly. She left the room as Barb got to work.

“How are you doing Mr. Greystone?”

“Alright,” he grumped, He set the papers his daughter had given him down and picked up the enormous cup full pills presented to him by the fat yutz  in the dull blue uniform.

Barb observed him as he took his pills. His chart said he sometimes tried to hide them as he didn’t like the pain pills. She wished he would offer her some of the OxyContin. She was sure that if she could just get a good night’s sleep she would feel more lucid when she had to work these double shifts.

After he silently swallowed the pills she removed his pajamas and began to bath him.

“Don’t get any Ideas. I like em a little thinner than you,” he slurred.

“Okay,” she chuckled.

“”You should try Jenny Craig or something.”

“I can’t afford it, Mr. Greystone.”

“Maybe just cut what you eat in half,” he said.

“Maybe.”

She finished up and headed off towards to the lounge for her coffee break. As she was putting the cart away, she noticed that Mr. Redstone seemed to have left some paperwork sitting on it. She picked up the document with the intention of returning it to him.

She glanced it over. It looked important. She thought that loosing something like this would not bode well in his mental competency hearing. She walked into the breakroom and threw it into the garbage can, just before the trash was about to be taken out.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and smiled wearily as she looked out at the rain.

Munch

mouth

 

 

Craigslist: Like Food? Wanna be paid to eat on camera?

 

Mary Beth arrived at Denny’s for her 9:00 a.m. appointment. She ordered some coffee and checked her phone nervously. The coffee arrived but the man who was supposed to meet her did not. She was just about to leave when she got a text message saying that he would be there in five minutes. Ten minutes later a harried looking man entered the restaurant. She waived at him.

He smiled and took a seat across from her.

“Hi, I’m James.”

“I’m Mary Beth.”

The waiter approached and he ordered a coffee. Mary Beth took a good look at him. He was about forty; short with curly hair and a pot belly. He wore a Nirvana tee shirt and jeans.

“So you answered my ad. Did you have any questions about what the job would entail,” he asked.

“Um” Mary Beth began. She looked around for fear that someone might hear her. “You would film me…like…eating dinner.”

“Well, really you would mostly be filming yourself.”

“Right, but I mean today….”

“Today, I would audition you. I will be auditioning girls for about the next week, for all three meals. I would then pick someone. They would come over to my studio and I would teach them how to angle their web cam on their mouth  just so..”

Mary Beth looked around the restaurant again. She thought the couple at the table behind them might be listening.

“After that, they would make one video a day for one month. We would put the videos up and see how they fly for one month. If the videos are successful, there would be more work.

The waiter came back and took their food orders. James ordered pancakes and eggs.

“I’ll have the same,” Mary Beth said.

“I thought you wanted the burger and fries,” he said, his eyes narrowing a bit.

“Oh, sorry…. right. I’ll have a burger and fries.”

The waiter walked away.

“Did you have any other questions?”

“It’s really $200 a video?”

“Right.”
The woman sitting behind James seemed to turn a bit.

“ And I mean the camera….”

“It would just be focused on your mouth.”

“It pays through Pay Pal?”

“Yes.”

They made awkward small talk until the food came.

Mary Beth took a bite of her hamburger and began chewing it.

“”Open your mouth just a little bit,” he said. “Not that much.”

She tried to comply.

“There you go. That’s it. “

This went on for five minutes until James finally excused himself and went to the bathroom. When he came back he appeared to be sweating. He devoured his meal and paid the bill.

Mary Beth and James walked out into the street. He said he would make a decision in one week. If she did not hear from him by then, she wouldn’t.

As she walked back to her car she wondered how she did. She wondered if there was still enough time to apply at Fed Ex.

5000 Facebook Fans

fan

 

 

You have been blogging for five years to little avail. Your blog, “whatamIdoinghere.com” deals with your frustrations working as a high colonic technician. Your writing is witty and insightful you have tried to stay relevant by using the Urban Dictionary as a thesaurus. Your mom and your sister love your blog, but somehow it escaped the attention of the general public. Perhaps it is host sight you chose, you had seen so many less talented people become more successful than you. In five years you have had about a thousand hits and fifty followers. You have written a post a day, you deserve more.

You have always been hesitant to buy Facebook fans, but you are getting desperate. If people just knew about your blog you could get a book deal and quit your shit job. You have been through hell. You have overcome depression, you have had to eat ramen on numerous occasions and you once had a roommate that who constantly berated you.

You figure it is worth a try.  Although people may know that the fans are fake, it might at least get them to go to your blog and have a look and once they do that, they will be hooked. Your mom says you are brave for sharing your life with others. Just last week your friend Jennifer said you were amazing and beautiful, didn’t everyone deserve to be amazed?

You go to a website that sells Facebook followers and retweets and you order 5000 Facebook fans. You write that night’s blog post and head to bed. The next day you get up at 6:00 am and head to work. After a long hard day of vacuuming out some really rancid buttholes, you come home to find a small crowd gathered around your house. As you approach you see that they are starring in wonder at your lawn. You get closer to see that there are oscillating fans all over your lawn, they appear to be battery powered and they are spinning at an astonishing rate.

You push past your neighbors to find your mother in the kitchen, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, crying her eyes out. There are fans everywhere. You got to your computer to see that fans are leaping out of your computer one after the other at a bewildering pace.

You go back to the kitchen and pull your mother to her feet. You locate her car keys as a fan flies towards your head. You run out of the house and to the car. A cop stops you on the way.

“Excuse me ma’am. Are these your fans? He holds up one of the fans and gets it to stop spinning with a stick. You see the word, Facebook written on each one of the blades. A fan hits you in the ass, cutting you. The neighbors begin to run away screaming as more fans fly from the house.

“I’ve never seen these fans before,” you say as you and your mother get into the car.

“Ma’am did you buy these Facebook fans?”

“No,” you scream as you start the car.

“Ma’am, I need to talk to you,” she cop says as you drive away. In the rearview mirror you see that his throat has been cut by a blade in a ghastly scene.

You speed towards the expressway followed by the fans which are hurdling after you. You manage to lose them. You drive to a gas station where you fill up the car and get coffee.

You get into the car and drive to a motel were you rent a room and turn on the news. A pretty blonde reporter reads your story.

“This bizarre story comes out of Denver, Colorado tonight. A computer in a house on Ogden Street began spitting out thousands of battery operated oscillating fans. The fans, which had, “Facebook” written on the blades, are now flying around the city causing injury and even death. The Washington Park neighborhood has been evacuated and the FBI is investigating the case.  Tonight via satellite we are joined by Thomas Pinner who works with Strange Phenomenon Investigations in Scotland.

“Hello, Dr. Pinner.”

“Hello, Tracy”

“Dr. Pinner, what could be casing this strange occurrence?”

“Well, Tracy there are several different thing that could cause it. It might be that someone ordered the fans, but did not select the appropriate method of delivery. It might be that someone ordered Facebook fans, with fans meaning fanatics and the software system simply misinterpreted the order.”

“Thank you Dr. Pinner,” The reporter said.

“No matter what caused the phenomenon, this event has taken a horrible toll on our city. School is canceled tomorrow, there will be no public transportation and the highways will be patrolled. The National Guard has been called out with orders to shoot the fans on sight.”

You order a pizza and explain what happened to your mother. She hugs you and tells you it is okay, you did nothing wrong, you are amazing. You smile to yourself, because you finally know it’s true.

5 Things you didn’t know about Cole Porter

cole

Ask any fan of musicals or jazz who their favorite composer is and the answer is likely to be Cole Porter. Mr. Porter is known for his deceptively simple, clever and thought provoking lyrics. Although he may have sold his first song in the 1920s his music is still well known today and has been featured in everything from Broadway revivals to television commercials.

His songs were groundbreaking in that they managed to stay within the mainstream while being sexually suggestive such as in, ”it’s Alright With Me,” which hints at his homosexuality; historically educational as in, “Just One of Those Things,” in which he describes great break ups through history;  and filled with clever metaphors such as, “All Of You” which compares a man’s wanting a woman, to a leader wanting to achieve  world domination.

Most people know that Mr. Porter was a Yale graduate. Anyone who has ever seen, “High Society,” might guess that the composer was raised as a member of the upper crust. Fans of musical history may note that he was one of the first recipients of a Grammy and won four Oscars. There are still a few things most people don’t know about Cole Porter.

He almost became an attorney

Instead of writing, “Love for Sale” Mr. Porter might have been defending people who sold their love. He attended Harvard Law School at the wishes of his extremely conservative grandfather. Fortunately for all of us the lyricist dropped out and headed to Broadway.

He was in constant pain for last 27 years of his life

Mr. Porter had a serious horseback riding in 1937 in which his horse rolled on him and crushed his legs. He refused amputation and wrote music to take his mind off of the pain. The leg finally had to be amputated in 1958.

He shares a birthday with Johnny Depp

America’s favorite jazz composer shares his June 9 birthday with America’s favorite pirate. Other notable June 9 babies include Natalie Portman and Michael J. Fox.

He was a Gleek

When he was at Yale he was a member of the glee club and was responsible for writing many of their fight songs.

He lounged at the Waldorf

Mr. Porter spent his finally years in an opulent suite at the Waldorf Towers in New York. After many years of being the life of the party, he became a recluse.

 

For the people who have been E-mailing me about a certain business

I am not that naive. But, nice try……

Land of Delusion 

don

16 year ago, when George W. Bush was running for president, I had a job in Denver working in a collection agency as a skip tracer. The atmosphere of the office was true to the stereotype of collections agencies. The collectors were undereducated, overcompensated alcoholics and drug addicts, who swore every third word, hated deadbeats and homos and carried concealed weapons in their cowboy boots when they weren’t driving their pickup trucks to the hills to murder some innocent animal. There were several people in the office who kept radios at their desks and they were all turned to Dr. Laura or Sean Hannity.

As you can imagine, they all loved George W. Bush and hated Al Gore even though Gore’s policies would have benefited them.

At first I thought they believed what they did because they associated the intellect and compassion exhibited by Gore with weakness. But, there was more to it than that; Bush was an idiot and a sincere sounding one. He had a limited vocabulary; he was severely learned disabled and could barely read. He believed everything his puppet masters   told him unquestioningly and this caused him to regurgitate the lies he was told with an earnestness that anyone who didn’t know any better was apt to believe.

Al Gore was brilliant and articulate with an awkwardness that was perceived as arrogance by those who were unable to understand him. George Bush had a slow wit, a quick temper   a short attention span. He was the idiot’s idiot. With his undernourished mind and his overfed Id, many people could relate to him.

I understood this. I’m not the brightest crayon in the box myself and I know what it feels like  to be condescended to or even ignored by people who are witty and smart and feel you are not worth their time.  When the intellectuals in the media were bewildered by Bush’s popularity, I understood that it had been a long time in the coming. When they said he would never be president, I was pretty sure he would be. Although he needed a boost from his brother to actually win the election, the fact that he got any more than a few hundred votes evidences the passionate frustration of then American dim wit and the defiance that they felt towards those who had what they wanted.

Intellectuals and businessmen alike learned something from Bush. They learned that no one is more powerful or pliable then the American dumbass.

Over the past 16 years American big businesses have turned up the volume on catering to the dumbass. We have made simple minded reality shows staring dumbasses which are watched by dumbasses. We have shows with clever rich people acting like dumbasses that are enjoyed by the dumbasses who love to judge any envy those dumbasses. When a dumbass sees himself on television or takes an interactive role as an audience member he feels validated.

Big business and banks picked right up on the dumbass’ need for validation. Anybody at all can buy Twitter and Instagram followers regardless of talent or hard work. People who can’t afford homes and don’t qualify for credit cards can now buy homes and get credit cards with ridiculously high interest rates.

Perhaps the worst exploitation of the dumbass is the fake college. I spent a year and a half working as a first party collector for a company that offered private student loans for students at “colleges” such as  Corinthian which offered fake degrees to poor disadvantage dumbasses for a high price. The degrees were completely worthless and some of the students were not dumbasses but, genuinely learning disabled. I spoke to people who could not spell their own name or give an address properly on a daily basis. Corinthian eventually went bankrupt and President Obama and The U.S. Department of Education have announced they will cancel $27.8 million in debt owed by the students.

There are similar colleges geared towards students interested in the arts. My mother worked in advertising for some 20 years. She took a teaching gig at Columbia College in Chicago one semester where she was told not to correct the student’s grammar and spelling as it might hurt their feelings. The “college” wanted the students to keep on paying the exorbitant tuition without actually learning anything. If a young egoist got his feelings hurt the college might not get any more money out of that student.

My mom quit after a year.

Although the business who do this are arguable unethical, the ultimate blame lies within the dumbass community. We could say no to these things and we do not. Praise feels good and we are addicted to the possibility and the promise of material success, social acceptance and power.

Now the election is upon us, and there is a very good chance that Donald Trump will be our next president. Some dumbasses like him because he appears to speak off the cuff. He is loud, crude, uncultured and insensitive and the dumbass community can relate.

It is all an act of course. Mr. Trump is in reality a sophisticated businessman who has made billions of dollars by knowing exactly how to manipulate people. He was fortunate to inherit millions of dollars from his family and he was lucky to have a name that is synonymous with domination, He is not the dumbass he pretends to be. Although the many mistakes he makes on Twitter would suggest he is uneducated, he is actually a graduate of Wharton Business School.  He knows how to use proper English and he knows that dumbasses don’t like that sort of thing.

He also knew how to use his name and his personality to make himself richer. In spite of multiple bankruptcies he managed to convince a major network to produce a show where he was the ultimate authority on business success. The show was everything reality television should be; competitive, cruel and sustainable. Mr. Trump came out looking all-knowing and streetwise. He made a big name for himself and his name; just his name, is worth millions of dollars when affiliated with a hotel or an airline.

Trump is the consummate American monster. He understands peoples need to feel good and how to exploit that weakness. He is completely vapid and out for himself. He is everything to which the American dumbass had chosen to aspire. He doesn’t give a rats behind about them or any of the people they are prejudice against. He will say what he needs to get elected. One he is elected there is no telling what he will do. The whole thing may be a prank for his reality show.

We dumbasses have alternatives of course. We can step aside and let the admittedly smart people take the reins and run the country.

Bernie Sanders is a graduate of the University of Chicago and has never hidden his intellect or his morals. Hillary Clinton is a graduate of Harvard Law School who has had a good amount of success in business herself and has proven herself to be pretty good at getting people who are on opposite ends of the spectrum to talk to each other.

They are each quite progressive. Bernie has recently introduced many environmental bills into the senate and Hillary was the first Secretary of State to fight for international LGBT rights laws.

 

The trouble is that neither one of them can do it alone. Bernie is a socialist and we Americans are too delusional to be socialist. We gamble in casinos and play the lottery. One of our favorite show is Keeping Up with the Kardashians and our favorite films are fantasies which often take place in opulent settings. Our favorite books like Fifty Shades of Grey and The Luckiest Girl Alive center on wealthy successful people. American proletarians don’t care about proletarians because we refuse to admit we will always be proletarians.

 

I have had people on my interview blog tell me the most personal poo about their sexuality and psychological history, but they never want to talk about their job; it’s too depressing.

 

People don’t trust Hillary. Serving a diverse state like New York is a daunting task and she had to compromise her principals many times to please her constitutes as well as her financial backers. She has waffled on several important issues such as the war and immigration. She also has a vagina and we don’t like that sort of thing.

The only solution is to have Bernie and Hillary run together. Hillary will win her party’s nomination if she takes Bernie as her running mate, they may have the numbers to go to the White House. They balance each other out well. He’s not afraid to stick to his principals and she has made connections with businesses and foreign leaders around the world that can be beneficial to this country.

So, Bernie and Hillary, don’t be babies. Play nice with each other and you can win this thing. Anything else would be a dumbass move.

Papaya Paltrow, The Psychic and The Time Machine is out!

ppm



http://www.amazon.com/Papaya-Paltrow-…

Meet Farrah Sniderman, the heroine of Eliza Gale’s mixed genre tale, Papaya Paltrow, The Psychic and The Time Machine. This Hollywood based, fake psychic finds herself forced to move in with a roommate in the valley after her business has gone belly up due to a scathing online expose written by her ex-boyfriend.

While snooping through her handsome new roommate’s personal effects she finds a time machine in his closet. At first she thinks it’s a phony, but she soon discovers that it really can transport her back and forth in time.

Instead of using the machine to kill Hitler, stop people from getting on the Titanic or prevent any other major disaster, she decides to make her own life better, by using the machine to travel to the past and make sure that she never meets her ex-boyfriend.
Once this is accomplished and her psychic business is alive and well againshe uses the machine to predict the future by traveling back and forth in time. Soon she is soon the psychic to the stars.

In the pages that follow, Farrah travels from one adventure to the next. She reads tarot cards and does psychic readings for everyone from A-list starlets and singers to Bernie Sanders himself. Everything is going great until she travels too far into the future and finds herself trapped in an America that has become a dangerous positive thinking theocracy lead by the heiress Papaya Paltrow.
.
Farrah’s journey through time is populated by a host of characters: the cynical starlet Tamera who doubts Farrah at first but eventually befriends her; the insomniac pop star, whose desperately wants a good strategy for humiliating her ex-boyfriend in public, a positive thinking cyber stalker, who thinks he can make a girl love him just by wanting her badly enough, a futuristic band of hippies who are traveling to San Francisco in 2041 to join the cities succession from America and most importantly, a sixty three year old version of herself.

 

 

You saw a portion of it here first! Here is the whole thing:

 

 

Unshutyupyidis and you

mic

Unshutyupyidis is a psychological condition in which a person exudes an excessive amount of verbiage to express a limited amount of thoughts.

 

It may have an adverse effect on one’s social life, causing annoyance and restlessness in those around a person with this disease. In some extreme cases if may cause the sufferer to get a good solid whack in the mouth.

 

Blabbermouth index (BMI), a measurement which compares words spoken to ideas in the brain, defines people as garrulous (pre- unshutyupy) if their BMI is between  25 and 30 words per notion and unshutyupy when it is greater than 35 WPN.

 

Unshutyupyidis is commonly caused by an exaggerated sense of self importance, excessive wind intake and an inability to listen to anything anyone else has to say.

Duct tape and ball gags are the mainstay treatment for Unshutyupyidis. The most important thing is to reduce the amount of redundant phases used in a conversations such as asking the same stupid ass question forty times before getting a single answer or saying how tasty your lunch is in seven different ways.

 

According to Dr. Fletcher  a windbag expert at the of The University of Chicago’s Institute of  Tautological  Studies “It is very important to shut your silly mouth up and think before you speak.”

 

In the cause of failure anti-bombastic drugs may be taken to increase the amount of breaths between sentences or inhibit verbal diarrhea. In severe cases surgery is performed and an inter larixballon is placed, limiting  lung capacity and making incessant babbling impossible. In some cases it may even be necessary to hit the sufferer in the head with a hammer.

 

Unshultyupyidis is the leading preventable cause of alienation worldwide. Although it is considered asinine by customer service representatives and waiters it is often considered a sign of intelligence in universities and coffee houses.

 

If you or a family member are suffering from unshutyupidis there are many groups that may be of assistance to you. Parents and Friends of the Gabby and Loquacious, The Yakking Men’s Christian Association and Gabpeace. Please don’t hesitate to get help!. The nerves you save may be mine!

The Valentine’s Voyeur

 

heart

 

So Valentine’s Day is rapidly approaching and once again you find yourself without a mate. You feel your singleliness is being polarized by the impending holiday.  The greeting card companies and candy makers in town seem to be flaunting their wares in your face; making you feel like a loser for having no reason to buy them.

You attempt to ignore it, but you cannot. In spite of all of your horrible dating experiences and the fact that you are single and can do anything you want at any time, there is no resisting the pull of commercialized coupledom. You want a mate and you don’t care how much you have to humiliate yourself to get one – sadness for you.

Fortunately, I am old and crabby and I no longer care about such matters. I feel awfully superior about this and enjoy making fun of those people who do care.  Plus, I have nothing else to do.

While riding the Max in Portland I have born witness to several Tinder dates. I have decided to share them with you.

George and the girls

I was on my way to work on a rainy Saturday night. I got to the Max Station just as a train was stopping. I looked through the window and did a double take, as there was a man wearing no shirt sitting with his back to me.

I boarded the train and sat down, thinking he was just some 82nd Street lunatic, who was high on drugs.  He was sitting in the sideways seats and I sat with my back to him in a seat right behind the driver. After a moment I heard a booming voice behind me.

“Hello, is this Tara? This is George from Tinder. “

I turned around and it was the shirtless guy.

“Yeah, um you’re not gonna believe this story. I have to go help my friend out with his car. He’s stuck out in Beaverton. I’m on the train right now, and I’m not sure when I can get there.”

I took a good look at him. He was good looking in a dilapidated sort of way. He was tall with an impressive head of black hair and facial features that looked like they were just beginning to fall out of symmetry. He was in excellent shape compared to other people I’d seen shirtless on the train.

“Uh huh….uh huh. Well, what time are you going to bed? ….Okay…okay. I’ll call if I can’t get there by then…okay. Hey, you got a great voice and I can’t wait to hear it in person. “

He hung up and I looked straight ahead. After a moment I heard his voice again.

“Hi, this is George, from Tinder. I ‘m gonna be a few minutes late. I ‘m on the Max right now. Where is this restaurant? Okay, I hope I’m dressed okay. Hey, you’ve got a great voice, I can’t wait to hear it in person. “

Several young men got on the train.

“Hi there,” I heard George say.

“Hey, man,” one of the guys said.

“Hey you guys, what do you think about this shirt,” He asked. I turned around. He had donned a rather ordinary looking black shirt.

“It looks good.”

“I have a date right now. Do you know where Broadway Street is? I’m late for meeting her. “

“Sorry man, I don’t know.”

I stood up to get off the train and so did George.

“Do you think I should wear the collar up or down?”

“Don’t worry about it, man its fine either way.” One of the guys said.

George and I got off the train.

“Hey, ma’am do you know where Broadway is, “ he asked me.

“Um I think its back that way.” I said pointing.

“Do you know where Pioneer Square is?”

“It’s right there,” I pointed to it.

“Hey, I’ve got a date. Do I look okay?”

“Yes, you do,” I said diplomatically.

We parted and I headed for the bus, almost happy to go to work.

 

Rachel and Sam

It was a cold Tuesday night. I got on the Green line and headed for downtown.  I sat in front of two kids in their twenties. One was a hipster guy with a red beard and a Wheaties tee shirt and the other was a fairly attractive girl, who had long dark hair. He was in the midst of questioning her when I sat down.

“Do you like the zoo?”

“Do I like the zoo? Well, ever since I became vegan I’ve been learning about how bad the zoo really is. I mean they treat the animals really bad and ”

“Do you like movies?”

“Yeah I like movies. I like mostly independent movies.  I….

“That’s good. Yeah, I like independent movies too. Do you like hiking?”

“Yeah, I do. I haven’t done as much of it as I would like …”

I could tell she was beginning to get annoyed.

“Do you like oral sex?

“Um I…”

“Because my beard is not for looks purposes.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Girls say it feels good when I give them head.”

“Okay, I…”

“Do you like camping?”

I got up and transferred to my bus.

 

Jake and Billy

It was a Wednesday morning and I was headed home from work, feeling exhausted.

A short, chubby zit-faced, redheaded bald man sat on the train in front of me looking out the window. A tall handsome guy in a nice suit boarded the train.

“Billy, over here,” the fat man said.

Billy got kind of an, “oh shit,” look on his face and went to sit with fatso.

“Hi, Jake,” he said.

“How’s work going,” Jack asked.

“Not bad.”

“Are you still seeing Clair?

“Yeah, it’s going great.”

“I broke up with Margaret two weeks ago. I ‘ve got a date with some other girl I met tonight.”

“Are you still on E Harmony,” Billy asked tiredly.

“Yeah, yeah I seem to do pretty well there. I mean you don’t get the highest quality girls, but I can always get a date there.”

“Right.”

“The other night, I went out with this girl whose profile said she was thirty five and that she was 130 pounds. I get there and the bitch is like forty five and 160 pounds. She was like,

‘I’m sorry I lied, but I didn’t think you’d give me a chance. ‘

“I was like, “thanks for wasting my time, ya know?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I don’t know about E Harmony sometimes. One thing I did notice, is I have gotten laid more on the first date with online dating than with regular dating. How about you, Billy have you gotten laid on the first date with E harmony?”

“oh..uh no,” Billy said, his eyes darting around uncomfortably.

“I have, lots of times.”

“Uh huh,” Billy smiled.

I cringed at the idea of anyone touching the little putz in a sexual way.

“So, yeah, so after I broke up with Margaret I was on E Harmony and she was back on it too of course and she…well when I met her profile said she was thirty five  and really she was thirty eight.  And you know, I can understand a woman lying about her age. So we went out for six months and now …when she was back on…she …her profile said she was thirty four. So, I thought that was funny. Not only was she lying about her age, but she had actually gotten younger, since we had gone out.

I got up and walked out into the cold morning rain. It made me feel clean and a bit younger myself.

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