Tag Archives: battery park

The Seat-Smearers Strike Again

Filed under jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality, too much information
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I think it’s pretty common to have a favourite stall in the bathroom, but I’m nearly obsessive about mine. I monitor who else is using it, which of the two toilet paper rolls is getting utilized more, what time of day it gets visited for the first time, and so on and so on. These things are especially important considering that I work next to an office of women who POOP ON TOILET SEATS.

It’s the perfect stall, too. The first one has the air vent in it, and while I appreciate a little noise while I’m doing my business, I can’t handle that there’s a huge space on the right side where everyone can look in and see you. The second one is too cramped. The third one is too spacious. The fifth one is handicapped, for God’s sake. And so I take the fourth. I used to try and play it cool and not use my special stall if someone was already in the third or fifth out of respect for their peeing privacy, but in my old age, I’ve come to care much more about my own comfort.

Anyway, the other day, I innocently went to my stall and found THE HUGEST PUBIC HAIR EVER CULTIVATED just lying there, sprawling across the whole seat. You can imagine my horror. And so I typed up the following sign in the biggest font possible:

TO SEE THE LARGEST PUBIC HAIR IN EXISTENCE,
PLEASE VISIT STALL #4

I thought about adding something about taking a Weedwhacker to a bush but thought better of it, being intensely concerned about my professionality and all.

When I came back after lunch, I followed a woman down the hall who stooped to pick up the sign, which had been tossed to the floor. I thought it very apropos that these seat-smearing women would take down the sign but not take the extra two seconds to throw it away. The woman–who doesn’t seem to speak a lot of English–looked at the paper as if she was confused by it, so I said, “What an awesome sign,” and she stuck it back on the door without a second thought.

And so my legacy lives on.

You Could Ice a Cake with What’s in Our Thighs

Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, it's fun to be fat, jobby jobby job job
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Our boyfriends are under the impression that my co-worker/super-New-York-BFF Sonya and I are trying to eat right and lose inches off our ever-expanding assets, but the truth is that most of our day is spent at my desk doing this:

And boy, are we pleased with ourselves about it:

Hicks Need to Stick Together

Filed under living in new york sucks so hard, my uber-confrontational personality
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The other day after work, I was walking down the sidewalk toward the subway when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy approach me from the street waaaaay too quickly. Since school’s out for the summer and the midwesterners are lining up on the sidewalks in droves to ride the tour buses that pick up downtown, I didn’t have anywhere to move, so I expected that he would slow down and get behind me. Instead, he prepared to squeeze himself between the line of denim-shorted lady-tourists and me, but I could tell that someone was going to get knocked over in the process, so I used my adorable pink plaid Puma bag to CUT HIM THE FUCK OFF. And for good measure, I added, “Dude, calm down.” He walked behind me for a second and then passed me on the opposite side, kicking my bag twice with his knee on the way. In that second, I decided that he was probably some young Wall Street suit in tassled patent shoes with pockets stuffed full because he’s not classy enough to carry a briefcase, feeling like hot stuff because he’d taken his asshole anger out on my innocent accessory. But when he finally got in front of me, I saw that he was wearing faded old jeans, dirty yellow workboots, and an ill-fitting winter coat that he must have been sweating all over. And I wanted to be like, “Hey, I’m on your side! I’m from a farm! I’m one of you!”

I just have to wonder–do I make these things happen with my uber-confrontational personality or is this happening to everyone here?