Dear teacher-like heels,
You are not good for running to the bus. You are only good for face plants, and you know, that’s embarrassing in front of a bus load of people. Also, you are loud.
We’re broken up. It’s been a slice.
Maybe I should try these:
Or on second thought….
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
Dear Guy with Dog* (you know who you are… actually, you probably don’t, since you don’t know who I am. Fyi: I’m that awkward chick who has your exact same schedule. You know, the one won’t look you in the eye and acts as if her ipod is the most interesting fucking thing since sliced bread. Yup. You got it, I’m that girl),
After much deliberation, I’ve come to believe that you are genuinely frightened of me.
What gave it away? Hmmm…
Well for starters, it was the way you urgently pressed the button as we stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change. I mean, jesus, it’s not as if I was standing there with a loaded gun (maybe). I’m surprised that button didn’t sink into the pole the way you were hitting it like you were the Duck Hunt gold medalist. Seriously, it took quite a bit of strength to not burst out laughing, but I managed to compose myself, because, well that’s what I do.
Anyhoo, good on ya, buddy. Congrats.
Here’s a tip: Try changing your schedule. That way I won’t be awkward and you won’t be running scared. Deal? Deal.
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
* <— HEY! WTF! This little guy means I’m shocked I even took the time to write this. Wowzers, batman.
You’ve got me thinking I’m having seizures, for real. Come on, now. It’s not rocket science, brain surgery, or hopscotch.
It’s toast. Simple as that.
And get this: The toaster even cooks it for you!
See, you put this bread in the machiney thing, set the lightness/darkness, push the button and…. holy shit, crunchy warm bread comes out!! Who knew life could be so grand?!
Even cartoons know the difference.
For instructions on how to use the toaster, please refer to your brain and/or google search the word ‘toast’. Seriously.
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
Dear moron #451,
If you ever clip your nails at your desk again, I will not hesitate to throw up on your face, rather than in my mouth.
Sick.
I’ll probably drop kick you as well, like so:
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
This just in:
Man gives girl seat on subway in rush hour, girl nearly dies from shock.
Dear random man who gave me his hot commodity (that’s a subway seat, people… get your mind out of the gutter),
It’s a christmas miracle!!! Yeah, it’s a few months late, but hey, I’ll take what I can get. If you didn’t have a ring on I probably would have jumped you. Thank you for your seat and temporarily restoring my faith in humanity.
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
Dear gum chewers of planet earth,
Trust me, as a gum connoisseur, I appreciate the wonder of its chewy, bubble-blowin’, sugary fabulousness… but really, must I see your tonsils and directly into your esophagus while mistaking the sounds coming from your mouth as those of an elderly person going to town on a jar of peanut butter without their dentures? I mean, come on now. I know it’s hard to be an adult, but you might want to consider trying a teeny bit harder, so as to avoid looking like a moderately unbalanced farm animal (at least in public).
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
Dear hipster teenage dropout who laughed and pointed at me when I almost wiped out on a random spot of ice while crossing the intersection,
1. That was mean. I’m judgemental and bitchy too, but at least I have the tact to keep it to a delightfully themed blog.
2. Karma’s a bitch (likely the main reason you slipped and actually fell when you crossed that same spot). ZING!
3. For lack of a better reaction:
Love,
Allergic to you. xo
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.
Love,
Allergic to you. xo
Dear fellow bus riders,
It’s probably not a good idea to vandalize the bus when it is still in park in the station, you know? Just sayin’.
Love,
Allergic to you.xo
Sadly, this little snippet was the highlight of my yesterday (I know, get a life and such).
Picture this:
The bus is packed to the armpits, doors shut, prepared for take-off.
Moron #5671: <Runs to bus>
Passengers: <Stare blankly at moron>
Driver: <Does not open door for moron, begins to slowly take-off>
Moron #5671: <Bangs on bus, kicks bus, bangs on bus, kicks bus>
Driver: <Slams on breaks, passengers faces go flying into armpits (smelly, smelly armpits)>
Moron #5671: <Raises arms in a ‘what!’ motion>
Driver: <Screams through closed door> What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you loco? Huh? <makes crazy motion at head>
Moron #5671: <Yells multiple swears that no one can hear as the door is closed>
Driver: <Opens door> Did you just hit my fucking bus? Did you? Are you loco? Are you crazy? What is wrong with you?
Moron #5671: Ya, I hit your bus!
Me: <Trying extremely hard to contain amusement. Really, really hard>
Driver: Are admitting that you hit my vehicle?? Idiot! Do you want me to call the police?
Moron #5671: What?! No. Listen, I was running for the bus, waving and jumping, and then you just… took off.
Driver: Can you not see this bus is full. There’s like 3 other buses behind me. What the hell is wrong with you?
Passengers: Hee hee hee. Ha ha ha.
Me: <Smiles>
Moron #5671: Well, maybe you should pay attention to your customers. Customer service!
Driver: What did I just tell you? Where would you even fit on this bus, smarty pants (nice touch).
Me: <Thinking, at this point, if I were Mr. Bus Driver, I would have said, ‘Here’s your customer service, and flipped him the bird>
Moron #5671: <Can’t think of anything intelligent to say, feeling defeated> Well! Uh… ya! like! LIKE! I was running!!!
Random Passenger: You go Forest. Run Forest, run!
Passengers: <Applaud>
Driver: <Steps up to moron’s face> DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN. WAIT FOR THE NEXT GODDAMN BUS!!! YOU ARE VERY, VERY STUPID AND DANGEROUS!
Moron #5671: <Confused look> Ya, well, like, LIKE….
Driver: <Takes off like a bat out of hell>
Passengers: <Smile and are happy for the rest of the ride, and considerate to fellow riders (i.e. muttering words such as, excuse me, thank you and please)>
So that’s all it takes? A little vandalism, a little confrontation, a little yelling and screaming… and the passengers are happy!
Good to know.
Dear commuters who rapidly caress the pole as if you are employee of the month at your local Happy Ending Rub ‘N Tug,
Although I’m aware that you probably don’t realize you are doing it, it’s definitely not very becoming (I assume my opinion would be drastically different if I were male, but… ya, nope). Whether it’s because your gloves slide up and down, or it’s the constant slip of your sweaty palm, you look ridiculous.
I’m actually not so offended by the above part as I find it rather amusing. What bothers me is that when you do that, you touch my hand and/or finger and/or coat and/or leg, when I happen to be using the same pole or standing in your general area. Call me crazy, call me OCD, call me neurotic, call me whatever you want, but do.not.touch.me. I do not want your dirty gloves touching my hand. I do not want your sweaty palms touching my body. I do not want the surplus of fuzz from your coat transferring on to mine. I do not want to pick your stray hairs off my coat. I do not want your backpack that smells deliciously of eggs, dirt, and peanut butter anywhere near my existence. I do not want to have to knock you out. Deal?
Love,
Allergic to you. xo
allergic to you... 
