1. Crazy People
People say the most horrible things in elevators. Yesterday, on my 14 floor ride up, a woman suddenly and very loudly says “It’s like we are underwater. Like we are trapped or something. Oh goodness! I guess that wasn’t a good thing to say on an elevator!” Well, no sh*t, Bubbette. Next time, let’s not let yer lips flap, m’kay? Little Miss Sunshine was referring to the blank blue screen in our newly refurbished elevator that will someday report the floor, weather, and other mind control media fed to us by our alien overloards... or whatever. Either way, I am also a little disturbed that she saw a blank blue screen and thought cold, watery death buuuuut I guess that particular scary is between her and her therapist.
2. Story Time
Another absolute favorite of mine are those “elevator-of-death-story-time” moments. You know… the elevator makes some sketchy, gut-wrenching noise and then someone pipes up with a “I heard this lady in New Jersey was completely cut in half by an elevator.” or “One time, my great uncle was in an elevator and the cables broke and it crashed and that’s why we always called him Stubbs.” or some other such inappropriately timed nonsense. Really? REALLY?!?!?!? Here I am, crammed into something the size of an LG Super-Capacity 3 Door Refrigerator (with Door-In-Door. Gawd, I want one… but I digress) box, forced to smell either your Jean Nate or whatever cheap fried goo you choked down for lunch and have been quietly burping for the last 30 seconds (Oh wait. You’ve just been exhaling and that’s your ACTUAL BREATH? Well, f*ck me…) and now you want to totally FREAK ME OUT with gruesome tales of poorly maintained elevators of past, present… and maybe our ffffuuuttttuuuurrreee (say it creepy like Vincent Price)? Just like the one we are in now? Fan-freaking-tastic. And we now know why Bertha over here has decided to substitute the love of another human being with the yowling, litter-box-scented, flea motels she calls “her babies”. Social skills of a lab rat. No wait… that’s not fair to the lab rats. They got skills, they are just forced. You don’t want to be the odd rat out during the “experimental phase”, you know? … but again, I digress.
There are those of you who may not say anything in an elevator but your B.O. might as well be a board-studded-with-rusty-nails slap to the face. You are an assault on all our senses but we can’t say anything about it because we are all too afraid to open our mouths because DEAR SWEET JESUS I MIGHT TASTE IT!!!!! I try and do the quick “stinky people check” before I get on but, as we all know, while some B.O. may make you THINK you are seeing things, unless it’s flies buzzing around Pigpen, you can’t actually see it.
Ladies… Prada and Coach do not erase funk. Guess what! You might wear Gucci but your sh*t still stinks and so do you! I don’t care how cute your shoes are, you can still smell like you have been rolling around on a hog barn floor. Your bag might match your cutie little outfit but I wouldn’t know because my eyes are watering so badly from whatever reek you tried to cover up with the new Jenny from the Block, that I wouldn’t be able to tell Tommy Hilfiger from a Faded Glory. (and I like me some jaunty, nautical plaid. I really do.)((No offense Wal-mart. Garanimals is great… and so stain resistant.))
Gentlemen... QUIT WITH THE AQUA VELVA… it’s not cool. And Axe anything. That stuff’s just nasty. No sane woman wants to sleep with a dude that smells like Christmas trees and gym socks… we just won’t. Axe is the equivalent of a perfume chastity belt. Another little tip: Febreezing a shirt for Day 2 (even after “airing it out”) doesn’t make it a Day 1. At all. Ever. Especially when I am armpit level and you decide to reach OVER MY HEAD and push your elevator button! Just ask me to push the button next time fortheloveofallthatisholyandgood. This will save you a death-stare and my fantasizing about sucker punching you as I step off the elevator. In the balls.
That is all…. For now….