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.
3. Stinks
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….
No comments:
Post a Comment