Hate Parade: Being Unaware

If you haven't noticed already (and that's very possible seeing that you failed to recognize my new dope haircut last week, assholes) it's the holiday season here in America, home of the free. And as is tradition with the holiday season, it's time to import lots and lots of oblivious people into an already overcrowded city so they can meander through their days like children entering the enchanted land of Oz. Only this is not Oz. It's Manhattan. And we all have shit to do, morons, so please stop being so fucking obtuse and get your shit together. Maybe people get like this around the holidays because of all the heroin Starbucks is putting into their coffee? Good thing I don't drink Starbucks, because it sucks. Put my own milk and sugar in my coffee? What am I, a PEASANT?

But everywhere I turn, there are people doing things that baffle me, and while I am busy being baffled, they are inconveniencing everyone else by being stupid. I think these people should be forced to go through "Awareness Training". What is "Awareness Training"? Well, I'm glad you asked! "Awareness Training" is just like your standard "Sensitivity Training", except it's not sensitive at all. In fact, there is a lot of yelling and screaming by the trainer, who looks like Andre the Giant only he is black and has long blonde hair. Also, he doesn't use a binder to show you examples of 'awareness', instead he uses the binder to bash you over the head with it each time you screw up. Also, he teaches you how to not be a complete fucking asshole, and helps you learn through a series of body-slams and camel-clutches that being unaware is appreciated by NO ONE. Then he whips out a giant umbrella with a bank logo on it and stabs you in the face and eyes repeatedly to give you a taste of your own medicine. UMBRELLAS ARE A PRIVILEGE, NOT A RIGHT, GODDAMMIT!

I was walking down the sidewalk today, minding my own business when a family of six Europeans wearing glossy puffy jackets with fur hoods cut me off. They then proceeded to walk like they were cavemen transported by a time machine to 2011, and dropped off in the GPS section of Best Buy. I don't know if that is a bad anaology or a horrible one, but it just goes to show how hard it is for me to describe that walk that tourists do when they shuffle their feet really slowly and stare up at some windows. What is so awe-inspiring about 48th Street? TGI Friday's? Spolier-alert, eating TGI Friday's is like eating garbage, so you aren't missing anything. Wait...Are you Amish? If you're Amish, then yeah, okay, maybe I understand why you're wandering around with that deer-in-headlights look. But you're wearing those puffy jackets, so now I know for sure that you're not Amish. You're from fucking Germany, aren't you. I knew it! Sich beeilen! Sich beeilen!

Cutting people off who are obviously in a rush is one of the most offensive things you can do in New York during the morning commute. I'd rather someone stand three feet away and peg me in the face with a softball than have to maneuver my way around a bunch of dicks shuffling along the sidewalk and taking pictures of the scaffolding outside St. Patrick's Cathedral. OHHHHHH LOOOOOOOK, STEEL! What's worse is when this happens and it's raining, and their fucking umbrellas pour nine gallons of water all over my pant-legs. Thanks, guys - thanks for pouring water all over me. I guess the fact that I'm already soaked and freezing to death gave away how much I really wanted to cool off by you dumping water on my clothes. I hope you fall into the East River.

There has also been an influx of shitheads on the commuter trains screaming into their cellphones over the past month. I assume they are all going to Century 21 to buy windpants, because that place is like the United Nations of fucking horrible human beings. But the cellphone screaming? In no way shape or form is this ever okay. You see, I am totally fine with people talking on their phones while riding the train, it's 2011 for-fucks-sake, in thirty years we will have Pre-Crime Unit and Tom Cruise will poke out his own eyeballs to hide from the robots that framed him? But what I am not okay with is people who insist on unnecessarily yelling all the time like they are one of those weirdo kids from the National Spelling Bee. WHAT, OH HIM, HE WAS NOT MY BOYFRIEND LALALALALA (30 MINUTES GO BY) OH HER, SHE'S A TOTAL BITCH LALALALA. Stop. Stop yelling. You are so loud. No one cares which moron you banged last night. Besides, he doesn't love you. He loves Julia - oooooohhhh snap!

Just for reference, there is a Russian lady who takes the same train as me every morning. She is on her cellphone at ALL TIMES. In fact, I have never seen her NOT on her cellphone. This is not one of my hilarious exaggerations, either. She must never have any rollover minutes to share with her family. So inconsiderate. But, I like her because she talks very quietly on her phone. Not once have I gotten annoyed with her, and I get annoyed by everything (fuck off, sandwich board solicitors, your coupons are WEAK). In fact, I am so pleased by her hushed tones that I have no qualms about her probably orchestrating a secret Russian invasion of the US. One day in the not-so-distant-future, after the war has commenced, and I'm super-busy guerilla fighting against the invading forces with my compatriots Charlie Sheen and C. Thomas Howell in the woods of Colorado, the Russian lady and I will most likely meet again. And I'll be like, "Hey, Russian lady, remember me? I used to take the 8:18 train with you back when the country wasn't at war and my biggest daily problem was not having milk put in my coffee at Starbucks. I just wanted to tell you thanks for not yelling on your cellphone. That was cool of you." And she'll probably smile and nod and then shoot my fucking head off, because the Russians don't play that shit!

The awareness issues are also very prevalent in places of business during this time of year, too, because everyone is selfish and refuses to get in the holiday spirit and thinks any and all employees at every single store is their own personal Hanes t-shirt buying assistant. I noticed this a couple of days ago, when I was assigned the unfortunate task of taking my wife's care package to the post office. I get the sweats just thinking about all of the lovely and helpful and not at all terrible people who work there, but decided I would go through with it regardless. Anyway, I was on a line with 900 other people, watching the tellers go through their business with each customer. At the very end of the series of windows was a woman in her late-sixties or early seventies and let me tell you, she looked like a fucking boat-load of fun to be around. She was dressed to the nines, wearing a fur coat and fur hat (MURDERER AHHHHH), and white gloves. She also had a bag full of letters that she was having the teller stamp and send, one-by-one. No joke, probably a hundred of them. And in between handing each letter to the teller, she scowled at the line of people who were trying to send one or two packages, because we were hoooing and humming at how long she was taking. But Old Cranky Face seemed to thing WE were the ones with issues, not her occupying a whole teller for an hour to perform a task easy enough for chimp a to carry out (before tearing off your face and driving away in your car). Oh yes, of course, Cranky Face, how dare we judge you. It's our fault you're old and your kids hate you and you live alone. Instead of being catered to, she should have been shown the door. The door to HELL.

Sooooo...What's the moral of this post? Hmmm, I don't know. Maybe I don't have one. I guess I'm a little cranky today because I spend half my commute listening to idiots talk to their stupid fucking family/friends, and the other half dodging Eurotrash who dress as if they're fucking blind. If there is a moral, it's that you should just take four seconds of your precious time and absorb what's going on around you. Your fucking blackberry and and iPhone will still be there when you cross the street. I promise. So put it away. Put it in your pocket and pay attention to what the fuck is going on around you. And shove your over-sized umbrella up your ass.