Apr 10 2009
Why Do People PDA? More So, Why Do FAT People PDA?
Here I am. I had just left my boyfriend and best friend who just got back from Florida at the Mercury Lounge in New York City after we saw his friends’ band, Family Lumber, perform–who by the way are very good and you should check them out HERE (especially if you like Jimmy Eat World & Death Cab)–when the night had just began for me.
Contemplating buying some matzo ball soup at Katz delicatessen, I realized when I entered that I’m a poor SOB and using my debit card to purchase dinner number two just would not be a good choice and in the end I’d feel like the people I ended up so luckily viewing on the train. More on that GLORIOUS spectacle later.
So I get to the 2nd avenue subway, hoping to hit a F or V that just so happened to be waiting for me…because you know I’m ALWAYS lucky like that. Of course, being extremely tired from a day’s work (yeah people eight hours a day blogging and answering all of three calls is tiring!) and then hanging out in the city thereafter…I somehow trucked my merry ass down the DOWNTOWN steps. So I’m hanging there and I realize. What. The. Fuck. Wake up, bitch unless you want to go to Brooklyn, 34th street aka Penn Station is aways uptown from fucking East Houston street.
I look across the subway station to the UPTOWN rails and OF COURSE. A V is there and I realize that no matter how hard I run up the stairs and then run down the stairs to the uptown section, I will never make that bitch. I feel defeated, I feel sad, and most of all I feel rather wary of the muscle man in an over-sized sweatshirt staring me down with sexy times eyes. Ew, Gross, NEVER. Subways are always a peculiar place, but when it’s past 9 p.m., be ready to meet the strangest people. Not only was there a rank smell of piss and shit, but the F and V RARELY come during regular hours so now I knew it was going to be light years away for the next one.
Finally the Gods answer my prayers and a V shows up on the tracks that apparently weren’t functioning. I go in and I ask a broad, “Is this going uptown?” She replies, “I’m not sure, I don’t think so.” So I get off. F train arrives on the other tracks…now I’m confused so I get on and I thought I see BROOKLYN on the next stop sign…so I get off. It said BROADWAY and again, I’m an idiot having not gone on that train. An MTA cleaning guy tells me that the V is going uptown, but it’s going to be a bit of a wait. I get on and within 10 minutes and four stops I’m at my beloved Penn Station.
But first, I’m greeted with a couple tongue fucking one another that I wasn’t sure if I should call the cops in case of one of them losing breath. On the third stop in, a group of I so hate my life and I’m uber interesting since I’m indie kids get on. They’re drunk, they’re falling on the subway ground and laying there…I don’t give a fuck if you stuck a heroine needle in my arm, slapped me so hard forcing me to the ground…I’d somehow grow into Superman and would NEVER, NEVER touch that ground. I’m already saddened that I make my shoes meet that ground everyday. Sorry shoes.
Back to the tongue fucking couple, listen I don’t find it a problem to kiss your girlfriend/boyfriend/tranny/dog/whatever you’re into in public. Sometimes I find it cute and usually (when I was single) I roll my eyes. Luckily for my boyfriend I just slap his ass and call it a day. However, I find it rather humiliating when you have to subject not only your precious gums and tongue to abuse, but to strangers traveling just like you are. Fact of the matter is, no I do not want to see so much saliva that I feel like I could fill an 8 foot deep pool with it and no, I don’t want to see your dirty subway fingers all over that person’s face. It’s disgusting, it’s unsanitary, it’s wrong.
I get off at Penn with eight minutes to spare to make the 10:28 train. LUCKY ME the Ranger game had just ended (everyone WOOHOO they fucking made the playoffs) so of course the train is packed to the yards. And something that never happens to me, did. In the midst of bodies and packed train cars, I find a two seater COMPLETELY free. I should have known then it was God or whoever the fuck is up there ruining and saving lives playing a massive trick on me.
Everything’s pretty fine aside from the chatter, chatter, drunken chatter of Rangers fans and the fact I left my headphones in my gym shorts so iPod out, when out of the corner in my eye I see something I think I’m either a) imagining or b) hoping I’m imagining. Welcome to the title of my blog:
PEOPLE SHOULD NEVER FULL ON PDA. FAT PEOPLE SHOULD ESPECIALLY NEVER PDA.
I can’t quite explain what these two individuals looked like. First of all I thought I may have taken the train down to Alabama because when I say white trash hicks who just came out of the trailer after taking a massive dump, these were them. The woman (I kid you not) was AT LEAST 280 LBS of pure gluttonous fat. The guy, albeit not as fat, had those denim shorts that when made the hideous people behind their creation weren’t sure if they should make it a full pant or equal with the knee so they kind of just cut them in the middle and called it a day. He also had white socks up his calves and a lovely, lovely white wife beater, which showed off his rather far from svelte bod carrying quite the six pack…of beer in the gut area. His hair was that awful kind of buzzcut that was similar to Bill Paxton’s in Weird Science.
To the lovely 280-LBer (and I’m being NICE here people), it looked as though she was wearing an XXL Ranger t-shirt…that still could not fit over her massive body. She has more rolls than Royce does. Her hair was long and fried to the max in which she went hairspray can happy with that it made Kathie Lee Gifford’s mop look gawgeous. I believe she was missing two teeth on her right side as her two teeth in the front were a Twix away from falling out. So like a beached whale she laid her back fat on this guy’s stomach/lap area.
This is when I turned around. I shouldn’t have. I did. It was terrible. I couldn’t look away. It was one of those images that was so gross, but still you just couldn’t look away. There he was, dirty fingernails, busted beer bottles next to them (she still had hers in her hand drinking it) rubbing the FUCK out of her tit. And when I mean rubbing the fuck out of her tit…I MEAN IT. Now this was behind me so I’m waiting for people behind them or next to them to say something. NO! Everyone just merrily went along as these two fucktard fatties went at it like they were Stevie Wonder in a walking by himself competition. They had no clue what was going on, they were just grabbing, grabbing, GRABBING holding on for dear life. Her muffin top basically ate up her upper body so I believe what he was grabbing was some left over fat her body had no idea what to do with since everything else in that department was occupied.
The conductor comes to collect tickets. They stop and act like nothing’s going on. I turn around to the couple behind me and give the girl a “WHAT THE FUCK LOOK” about the two idiots in the row next to her. She gives me a smile…a SMILE?! FUCKING A! I’m texting my best friend Michelle (who I left in the city) and she’s telling me to move to a different seat…I can’t because everyone and their mom just so happened to be at that Ranger game.
So there I am. Huffing and puffing trying to make people notice, believing that will stop the vomit fuckery behind me, but no…I think I just looked crazy to everyone. Jamaica comes, I move to a different seat. I also save a phone from being stolen, but since that’s a good deed, it’s not worth talking about because this is about FAT PDA here, people.
Listen, maybe I’m biased against fat people. Maybe if they were hot, I’d roll my eyes and turn around, but WHY…WHYYYY do these people insist on bringing their bedroom times into a fucking train? Most of all, why do they always have to be a Big Mac away from blowing up? Having to witness fatties waddle is enough for me, but now I have to pay $278 a month on the LIRR to view this shit? REFUND. And no, that picture I posted are not of the couple I viewed. Yes, yours truly had time to take them out this morning, put them in front of a tree, take a picture, and then beat them over the head with the camera. I was tempted to take a picture, but then I thought that I would be just as much as a sick fuck as they were. And why make memories of a visual I hope I can burn out of my mind ASAP.
-C
