An Open Note to the Woman with the Split Ends…

Hey Asshat,

You were standing there on the 6 train with your knock off Chanel sunglasses with rhinestones in the corner.  Or should I say, rhinestone in the corner, as one had fallen out.  You purported to be minding your own business, but as your head waggled back and forth as you derided the latest douchey guy in your friend’s life, your split ends unfortunately brushed up against my arm in a vile and nauseating fashion, and continued to do so from Astor Place to 77th Street.  I’d appreciate it if next time you would exfoliate someone else’s arm with your scraggly ponytail.

Excuse me, but you’re hitting me with your nail clippings…

Hey Asshat,

There is one thing that could make this miserable ride on the L train worse, and that is the fact that you are actually clipping your toenails on the train.  What’s worse is that you don’t appear to be homeless, or otherwise using this particular subway car as your home base for the evening, and you appear to be deriving sick pleasure in watching me gag.  Nail clipping, toenail clipping especially, is an activity that should be reserved for home and the presence of your loved ones.  Although your cohort of “loved ones” is probably minimal if you insist on constantly flicking them with toenail clippings.

Elevator Manners…

Hey Asshat,

It would probably be best if when you see me furiously pressing the “Close” button on the elevator, yet somehow manage to wedge yourself in the door before I take off, if you did not condescendingly say “Thanks”.  It really just makes an awkward situation for the both of us.

You Might Want to Lose the argyle sweater…

Hey Asshat,

I am so onto you.  The first time you trolled about the 86th and Lex subway station in your argyle sweater and black leather baseball cap, begging passersby for a swipe of their Metrocard because you “left your wallet at home”, it might have been believable.  But, you might want to try a different subway station every day if you’re going to make this your schtick.  When I see you everyday it becomes apparent that you are just a bum, and an incredibly uncreative one at that.

I’d rather be friends with the Turd Smuggler than you…

Hey Asshat,

I apologize that the reality that despite the fact that I am facebook friends with “Antarctica Bar” and that guy that pooped his pants in the 5th grade, yet I denied your friendship request twice is not enough of an indication that even in cyberspace I don’t want to be your friend (yet I’ll gladly be friends with “the Turd Smuggler”).

I had that poncho in 1986

Hey Asshat,

First of all, you’re in a poncho, and I haven’t seen a legitimate person wearing one since Sea World 1986.  Second of all, you are standing directly above me on the subway spilling sheets of water onto my iPhone and making my subway ride almost as miserable as that time I was being frotteurized by that bum that peed his pants.  I would appreciate it if you would perhaps your drippy umbrella over to that unassuming old woman sitting in the corner, or anywhere else… as long as its not by me.

I prefer not to wear my Guinness, thanks.

Hey Asshat,

I could excuse it the first time you dropped your entire Guinness in my lap, since I suppose accidents do happen.  That is I could have IF you hadn’t immediately grabbed your iPhone, said “Ohmigod I hope I didn’t break it”, and then only apologize because you felt my burning glare.  I will not, however, excuse the subsequent water and Bud Lite you also thrust in my direction.  The worst part of this is that you appeared to be approximately 80% sober, thereby destroying any excuse you had for acting like a clumsy asshat.

Get to walking…

Hey Asshat,

Last I checked, your feet and your ear are not connected, so I fail to see the need for you to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to have a conversation on your cell phone about whether you should bring home the Berkshire pork medallions or the organic chicken for dinner.  It called a “mobile phone” for a reason.

Someone Needs to Take a Facebook Tutorial…

Hey Asshat,

The purpose of a facebook status update is to be funny, witty, succinct, and perhaps do a bit of shameless self-promotion.  What it is not the place for is a detail by detail rendition of what you are doing that day, a place to describe a minute by minute rendition of your morning sickness issues, or a place to complain about your infant’s poopy diaper.  I suggest you get a sense of humor, and while you’re at it — I think you should probably get off the computer and get to seeing about that poopy diaper.

Townies are coming…look busy

Hey Asshat,

Perhaps my body language isn’t clear enough, but usually when someone is nervously glancing at you, yet refusing to make eye contact and hightailing it toward the furthest corner of the Wegman’s, they are trying to get away from you.  Just a thought.  But yet there you are enthusiastically running over to me, pushing your two drooling children in what appears to be a shopping cart disguised as some kind of plastic car.  Now I am going to be forced to listen to you chatter about your job at the mall, your husband’s drinking problem, and how your child has pica (which he is displaying by consuming his shoe).  This is especially painful and awkward for me since I denied your friendship on facebook…twice.