1. My terlet kin beat up yer terlet!
OK, let's start with the questionable taste. Actually, I haven't got any questions at all except, possibly, "Do you really want to pay a premium for something that ugly to pee in?" Yes, despite the crappy picture quality, what you are looking at is the window display of a Queens Blvd. bath and kitchen retailer. (Hey, it was raining sideways and you're lucky I bothered to pull my camera out of my bag at all.) You're looking at a toilet, a sink and possibly a bidet. I have no idea who the market for this stuff is. Do you know anybody who covets these crappy crappers?
2. I worked 45 years just to smell bus fumes for eternity?
Next up, we have the sticker on the side of a NYC bus. Why do I have this nifty close up of the sticker? Because I sat at the same light through three cycles during pre-rush-hour, approximately 6 inches from this bus yesterday. Rain brings gridlock. Anyway, a few questions occurred to me. 1. Are some busses not Quality Control Buses? Do some only have the wheels bolted on with one or two lug nuts? Maybe the windshield wipers only work on the best of the best? 2. Who the hell is/was Michael J. Quill and is getting a bus depot named after him really any kind of honor at all? I know that's not what I aspire to.
3. Bad drivers---NYC edition.
I've noticed some of you posting items about how bad drivers annoyed you. OK, here's what I dealt with on the way home yesterday. I was traveling from 26th Street between 11th Ave. and the West Side Highway to my home in Brooklyn. Mapquest says this is a 5.3 mile trip and it should take 15 minutes. Fuck you Mapquest. I left at 3:45pm and got home at 5:25. Do the math.
Anyway, at the very beginning of my journey, I'm driving down 26th Street so I can turn south on 11th Ave. I'm about 10 cars back from the light, so, by the time it changes, I get up to about 25 mph before I get to the intersection. I'm not tailgating the guy in front of me, but there's only about 1-1/2 car lengths between us. As I approach the light, some douchebag parked on the side of the street (with Connecticut plates), decides it's time to go home now! Lesson one for bad drivers: Just because you're ready to leave doesn't mean you get to pull into traffic regardless of whether or not anyone else is coming. You're supposed to wait for a gap in traffic.
Then, after missing the light because I had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting Mr. Connecticut Douchebag, I turned the corner onto 11th Ave. I got about 2 car lengths down the block before having to stop for the light. That's fine. I'll be moving again shortly. The light changes. Everybody starts to move. I get about 3/4 down the block before I meet Mr. New Jersey Plates Douchebag. He's pulling out of a parking garage. Apparently, when leaving a parking garage, you don't need to pay any attention whatsoever to the traffic already moving on the street. If you're ready to leave the garage, it's time for you to go home and all other traffic is required to yield to you. Asshole!
After a long and slow slog, I'm on the Brooklyn side of the Brooklyn Bridge. For those of you who don't know, there are three lanes when you come off the bridge. The middle and right lanes are both meant for cars going straight. The one on the left is for people turning left at the first light. I know this because of the four signs on the side of the road. I know this because there are signs suspended over the roadway. I know this because there are huuuuuge white arrows painted on the road itself. The left turn lane is a few hundred yards long and during rush hour, you can expect to wait at least 3 or 4 cycles of the signals before you actually get to make the left turn. The traffic going straight will whiz by your right side while you crawl forward and wait for your turn. So what's so special about you, Mr. New York Plates Asshole that you get to speed to the head of the line and then cut in front of me when I'm in sight of getting to make the turn? I'm not a big fan of road rage, but one of these days I'm stomping on the gas and T-boning your ass in the middle of the intersection! Ooops!
4. Catering to my inner 11-year old.
I know it's really immature, but every time I see this place when I drive off of the Queensborough Bridge, I giggle a little. Sue me.
Have a good Saturday everybody!