2003-01-08 - 4:43 p.m.

Example # 1: At the gym. It's safe to assume we all know of my gym hatred, right? How I need all the planets to be in alignment, and everything working properly? This weekend, I found everything to my liking when I got there. There were empty treadmills, the ones right in front of the window, and the CD player was working. So I got on and started running, when the bratty little princess beside me decided that SHE would combat HER treadmill boredom by talking on her cell phone. That's right. At the gym.She spent the entire half an hour speaking to her friend about the most inane topics, loud enough for me to hear her through my headphones, while I harbored visions of kicking her ass.

I finally took my headphones off and said, as nicely as I could manage, "Excuse me. You must not realize how loudly you're speaking, but I can hear you OVER my music. Can you keep it down?" She looked at me, rolled her eyes, and said, "Yeah, well, excuse ME." And I snarked back, "Not to mention that you shouldn't be talking on the phone at the gym anyway. It's a GYM, and there are other people here." She dropped her voice to a whisper for a few minutes, presumably to tell her dumb ass friend what a bitch I was, and then resumed her regular conversation. The vivid mental picture I was getting of slamming her head into the workout display thing scared me, so I pulled out my headphones, ejected my CD, and moved two treadmills down. Where I could still hear her. Unless she was a surgeon checking the location of a heart to be transplanted, she had no fucking business on her cell phone. None.

Example #2: A huge (chain) bookstore. A man, mid to late thirties, definitely one of those suspended-adolescent NY bar guys, with a soft chin and a leather jacket and wire rimmed glasses. I am in the aisles, browsing books, when I hear him start up a conversation. I try to shut him out, and continue making my way throught the fiction section. His voice gets louder, and then softer, and louder and softer again, and finally I look up and he is WALKING UP AND DOWN THE AISLES, each and every one, having a conversation on his cell phone. Is he talking about books? No, he is not. He's trying to round up some of his loser friends to go out and pick up chicks that night. Is he looking at books? No, he is not. He's just talking. Everyone else in the place is looking at books, or sitting at the ends of the aisles reading, and this clown is planning his social calender for 2003 in the middle of the bookstore. Again, I was overcome with murderous rage. However, having learned the futility of trying to reason with someone so fucking inconsiderate, I decided to just leave, buying nothing. Bastard.

Example #3: My office is filled with punky little thugs possessing nary a clue about anything, other than music and clubs. They are everywhere I turn, and my patience is running really really thin. Today, I'm coming back in from getting coffee, and the elevator door opens. But the doorway is blocked by the down-parka clad jacket of some skate punk, hat pulled low over his eyes. "Excuse me" I say, and he looks at me, uncomprehending, with red-rimmed eyes, not budging. "Uh, are you going up?" "No, I'm not, the elevator doesn't go up any higher than this, I'm trying to get OUT." He slowly moves out of the way, revealing four more of them, all standing right in front of the elevator like a bunch of morons. Don't these people know that SOME of us have to work? Christ.

I think it must be the lack of sun. At least I hope so.

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