gifts from the city

Last night on my way home with Cousin Brian, we were waiting on the platform at Atlantic/Pacific when we saw a service change advisory poster. You know, those dreaded little announcements that tell you the local trains won't run tomorrow morning (when you and your cousin will both have suitcases) or that service on the L train has been suspended until hell freezes over. Rarely are they good news.

Until last night.

Brian thought that perhaps this was a sexist poster, telling men to get up out of their seats for women. And while that is always nice, it's (for me) never expected. How I interpret "seat hogging"(and I believe the Lesbian Avengers would agree) is when you sweet, lovely gentlemen somehow manage to SHOVE YOUR KNEES INTO MY SEAT! Why do you insist on taking up twice as much space than your seat allows for? I don't care what you've got in your pants! Unless it's a nuclear bomb with a detonator on your nuts, get your knees out of my seat!
If you don't believe this happens, get on any given train during rush hour and you'll see two large men, spread eagle in their seats, with one tiny little woman squished in between them, like Jack Sprat stuck between the cheeks of his wife's monstrous fanny.

So please, Seat Hogging Men, please heed the Lesbian Avengers' advisory.

But if you can't, maybe you'd like to think about what you're doing. Perhaps even maditate a bit about it:

I can only imagine someone sitting alone in a dimly lit room, candles burning, yoga pants on, breathing in, breathing out, sipping his maditation tea.

"Please, universal spirit, bring me enough anger to rip my boss a new one."

"Ohmmmmmmm. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. Ohmmmmmmmmmmm."

"All new maditation tea. Now with 50% more anger!"

And you know what goes well with tea don't you?

that's right. Salad bar fish. (salad barfish)