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Showing posts from March, 2006

Women Who Like Sitting on Beards

Some poor soul was searching for "women who like sitting on beards" and Google turned up The Land of Men With Flaming Orange Beards and this blog.

I can't imagine the seeker of such women would be satisfied with that Web yield, so I clicked on Images, but only found a picture of an old Land Rover and a logo for The Punjabees.

Groups seemed promising with its first entry, "Twenty-five things you'll never hear a woman say ..." In the comments, a man gave examples of things you'd never hear him say like "How are you on beards? (Well ... actually ... how are you on men having beards? Not how are you when you're sitting on beards.)"

News presented something about "bearded ladies live" at which point I gave up the ghost. The search for women who like sitting on beards is best left to the more intrepid Internet explorers.

In other news, March Madness.

Happy St.Patrick's Day

Image
Long ago there was a wish
For a day to be called Irish
It would happen each year
The drinking of beer
In amounts that could drown a fish.


The Strokes

The Commute

I was standing center aisle on the subway, one hand on the pole, the other propping up my book, when this guy started yelling at the woman sitting next to him.

"Bitch, you better shut the fuck up; you don't know me; I'm sitting here, reading my book, I'll fucking hurt you; you don't understand, I'll fucking hurt you; I don't care if you're a woman; you gonna talk shit and you don't even know me."

I looked up from my book and the guy was flashing a mouthful of gold teeth in this girl's face. There was another lady to his left, who had a concealed dog in her purse that started barking.

"Ah, shit, now I'm making the dog cry; you don't know what kind of serious shit I'm capable of; you don't know who I am, let's keep it that way."

We pull into Jay Street where I cross the platform and make my connection. A mariachi was picking the guitar all precise and singing with his gal. When they were done, he wen…