Tag Archives: gross!

Moron #338

25 Feb

Dear Moron #338,

What the hell?! People like you should not be allowed to ride the bus.  Not only did you block the entire aisle by holding both of your arms up at the top of the poles on either side so all of us were squished to one side of the bus, your nasty-ass jacket was too short which then showed your hairy, giggly belly and your goddamn stained boxers. It’s bad enough that you wouldn’t budge when people asked you to, so instead they had to duck and crouch down under your rank smelling armpits, while at the same time trying really hard to weave around so as to not rub any part of them against you as if they were playing a live game of  Operation or Hot Potato.  One of these things just doesn’t belong, and it’s you. Next stop, my-fist-in-your-face-ville.


Allergic to you. xo



26 Jan

Dear woman in seat 16-E,

Your laugh was obnoxious  and although I was offended, I was content with letting that slide, until you let multiple stink bombs blast out of your ass.  I suggest you stay away from those Spanish titled green puffy snacks, because that’s probably what did it. I also didn’t appreciate that you hogged the arm-rest and had your feet sprawled across the invisible line into my foot area, or the fact that you kept suggesting to your husband (who is gay by the way – not that there’s anything wrong with that), that you should be in my seat even though I nonchalantly let my ticket stub fall so you would pick it up and notice that actually, I am in the correct seat and you just can’t read, but you know, whatever.  I was mostly upset about the nasty smell you tried to murder me with, so much that I gave some serious thought to pulling down the emergency air supply. Stay classy, 16-E.


Allergic to you.xo


20 Jan

I’m going to pull a double whammy here, because frankly, I’m lazy.

Dear guy who used his snot as a hair styling product/girl who removed her eye crusties while wearing leather gloves,

Boogerboy: It was bad enough that you used the palm of your hand as kleenex multiple times.  Was it necessary to rub it in  your hair, which you then styled as if it was gel? Very attractive, rock star. Congratulations, you made me throw up in my mouth a little. I’ve also started to rethink my faith in humanity, but you know, whatever.

Crustygirl: I understand the concept of wearing gloves on transit so your bare hands don’t touch the germ infested pole. Unless you are obsessive, I would imagine that you don’t wash your gloves as often as you wash your hands.  That being said, how exactly might you wash your leather gloves? Think about it, how many times have you worn those gloves? How many door handles, poles, and other random slimy things have you touched since then? And then…. you stuck that glove… in.your.eye. And then… you touched the pole, where your eye crusty was deposited.  And then… Mr. Fancy-business-suit touched that same pole  on the same spot where you deposited your eye crusty.  And then… Mr. Fancy-business-suit used his teeth to remove his glove that touched the pole that touched your eye crusty.

Enough said (almost)…

I believe Boogerboy and Crustygirl would make a fine couple, and live infectiously ever after (with occasional visits from  Mr. Fancy-business-suit).

In all seriousness, if you are going to do this kind of thing, do it in private or at the very least make an effort to not draw attention to yourself. Nobody needs to see that.

Enough said (for real).


Allergic to you. xo


Bigfoot-ish hairy toes

22 Dec

Dear rock star who sported a festive Bill Cosby sweater, fluorescent green toque,  floral print pashmina, Adidas trackpants, and pink flipflops (which exposed your dirty bigfoot-ish hairy toes, which really, you should think about covering up since it’s winter, or, hey, at the very least shave that shit, it’s nasty) today on the subway,

Congratulations! Winner! Gagnon! You have left me speechless (other than this most fabulous snippet).

Since you’ve already given up on life, please proceed to the nearest store that sells these god awful sorry excuses for shoes as your prize:


Allergic to you. xo



17 Dec

Dear person who felt it was acceptable to perform an ass-jig against me on transit,

Gross.  Just because I’m double-decker sandwiched between 27 thousand people in a frozen standstill to the point where I am unable to turn my head one millimetre in any direction, does not mean you have full access to rub your butt back and forth against my side to relieve your persistent itch and/or practice your island dance moves. I mean, really? This is unacceptable human behaviour. Please return promptly to planet ass-jig.


Allergic to you. xo


Public Nail Clipping/Filing

3 Nov

Dear jerks who file/clip their nails on public transit,

Gross. Please return back to the hole you’ve managed to crawl out of.


Allergic to you. xo

I do not want to:

a) Inhale your nail dust after you aimlessly blow it in my direction,

b) Pick your random nail pieces off my coat,

c) Become violent due to above circumstances (acts of violence include but are not limited to, elbow jabs, foot stomps, laser death glares, and on occasion, projectile vomit).

Let’s try a little exercise, shall we?


Wow. Crazy, right?


Got it?

One more time…



Alright then. Now that we’ve completed major brain surgery, let’s review the general rule:

Washroom activities stay in the w.a.s.h.r.o.o.m.

Please feel free to direct those who do not follow this general rule of consideration to this site or similar ones that may help them understand how to be human.


PDE (via public transit)

5 Aug

Dear Public Transit Riders,

Smelling, watching and listening to you eat makes me throw up in my mouth a little.



Allergic to you. xo

So, let’s start from the beginning.

PDE:  Public Displays of Eating.

You: Geez, people need to eat, you know.

Me: Thanks for clearing that up. You didn’t let me finish…

I’m aware that people need to eat.  It just so happens that I am included in that group.  Who knew?

Now here comes the ‘but’…


a) There’s a reason some meals are meant to be consumed at this thing they invented a while back.  Hmmm… whadducallit?  A table? Right.  This way, all of that mess that is currently all over your face, shirt and pants, would fall back nicely into place onto your plate and/or table.  I know it’s a hard concept to grasp, but I’m pretty sure you can get there eventually.  Good luck.

b) I’d prefer (as I’m sure some of my fellow transit riders would agree) not to see the contents of what is in your mouth. Didn’t your mommy teach you manners?

c) Some time ago there was a study that found our transit system to be more contaminated than a public toilet. That being said, I would never eat on it, but hey, that’s just me.  On top of that (I’m sure I’ve mentioned this one, two, three, or fifty times already), I would never eat a chip, touch the pole, eat a chip, lick my fingers, touch the pole, eat a chip, lick my fingers, touch the pole. Watching this offends me on so many levels, I sometimes have to talk myself out of projectile vomitting.  Do you know how many people touch that pole on a daily basis?  Do you seriously believe that pole is cleaned daily? Would you rather just lick the pole, or hey, might as well lick a public toliet seat because according to the study, you’re probably better off.

You: You’ve really thought this through.

Me: Thank-you captain obvious.

So, to summarize, if you find yourself participating in any of the above, don’t be surpised if random chunks of vomit fly your way, courtesty of yours truly.

Over and out.

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