Actually I've been back for a week, but I'm basically French now so I was extending my vacation without knowing it.... but I am back in France, where it is unusually cold and rainy for September, which totally blows chunks after a month in Thailand. And of course, no return to France could be complete without a crazy chick on the train:
My first morning back on the RER, this very strange woman sat next to me. She kept changing seats while singing to herself and sucking on some sort of candy that reminded me of that Bazooka chewing gum in a tube. Eww. She was in her 50's and had so much plastic surgery that she looked not unlike a cat...
Crazy Train Woman
I hope you like your candy
Your face is stretchy
Showing posts with label metro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metro. Show all posts
Monday, July 13
Today's lifeku goes out to all of the ladies that I smell way too much on the morning metro:Parisian Women
Lay off the Angel*
You all smell like barf
*please note that Angel is a perfume intended to smell like chocolate, but more closely resembles rotting stomach lining.
Wednesday, June 3: Reader Submission
Today's reader submission comes from Danielle, who not unlike me passes about 47% of her week on the Paris metro:
Fripsters* on the train
Your hair reeks of your own pee
But I like your shoes
*fripe (from the verb "friper" for crumple) refers to thrift and vintage stores in French
Fripsters* on the train
Your hair reeks of your own pee
But I like your shoes
*fripe (from the verb "friper" for crumple) refers to thrift and vintage stores in French
Friday, May 1
The other day on the metro I saw this elderly man dressed all dapper, done to the nines, and ready to go out. He was cool, he was a "cat," he was other terms from the 30's that I can't think of because it's too early. He was even rockin' a hat. I basically wanted to leave Chones and run away with him so we could do the Charleston together in underground moonshine bars, until I saw his magenta socks:
Cool daddy pink socks
Gonna be a wise guy, eh?
Do it on the fly
Cool daddy pink socks
Gonna be a wise guy, eh?
Do it on the fly
Thursday, April 30
This one goes out to every single one of you who has pushed me in the morning:
It’s 8:49
We’re all super late for work
You think you’re special?
It’s 8:49
We’re all super late for work
You think you’re special?
Friday, April 24
I have frequently expressed my personal feelings on the Human Cube that is the Paris Metro in the morning... the other day, while I was being compressed between a woman with way too much perfume and an adolescent listening to Rihanna & T.I's "Live your life" way too loud on his iPod (yes, his), when I noticed the man in front of me had begun huffing and puffing in a most disgruntled way. He shimmied his shoulders with a look of panic, not unlike a battered wife, and began looking around at all of the horrible people who were clearly abusing his personal metro space. At this point he began muttering to himself, making annoyed little comments about how people "are" these days.
May I point out that while all of this is going on there's a pregnant woman behind me who can barely breathe and a 10 year old late for school who has one leg balanced on the door frame in an attempt to create more space, not to mention the fact that the movement Disgruntled Man's shoulder shimmy was primarily ricocheting onto my face. After about 4 metro stops like this, he began to raise his "distress level," by which of course I mean "volume." The huffing and puffing turned into a whiny tantrum as he pushed his body in all directions trying to just get the Parisians off of him... except: this man clearly neglected to make the basic observation that THE PARIS METRO IS FULL DURING MORNING COMMUTE. He failed to acknowledge that he is in no way special, and in no way deserves more space than the 80 year-old woman who is holding her cane against the ceiling so that it doesn't get randomly thrown out of the train car.
People like this make me crazy. Or perhaps I should say amused, because it's not worth the effort to go crazy (or as we say in French pete les plombs). People who feel that they are superior enough to get their panties all in a bunch when they are treated just like everyone else, but at the same time don't have the money or initiative to take a taxi. Or walk. Or ride a bike. I mean seriously, Paris isn't that big. Which of course brings us to:
Whiny metro turd
I cannot create more space
Where there is none left
May I point out that while all of this is going on there's a pregnant woman behind me who can barely breathe and a 10 year old late for school who has one leg balanced on the door frame in an attempt to create more space, not to mention the fact that the movement Disgruntled Man's shoulder shimmy was primarily ricocheting onto my face. After about 4 metro stops like this, he began to raise his "distress level," by which of course I mean "volume." The huffing and puffing turned into a whiny tantrum as he pushed his body in all directions trying to just get the Parisians off of him... except: this man clearly neglected to make the basic observation that THE PARIS METRO IS FULL DURING MORNING COMMUTE. He failed to acknowledge that he is in no way special, and in no way deserves more space than the 80 year-old woman who is holding her cane against the ceiling so that it doesn't get randomly thrown out of the train car.
People like this make me crazy. Or perhaps I should say amused, because it's not worth the effort to go crazy (or as we say in French pete les plombs). People who feel that they are superior enough to get their panties all in a bunch when they are treated just like everyone else, but at the same time don't have the money or initiative to take a taxi. Or walk. Or ride a bike. I mean seriously, Paris isn't that big. Which of course brings us to:
Whiny metro turd
I cannot create more space
Where there is none left
Friday, April 3
This is a photo that I took the other day with my iPhone QuadCam (if you don't have this app, you really should) because I needed proof of the terrifying masked children that were haunting me in the metro. First they got on with me at Saint Paul Le Marais, which isn't that strange except for the fact that they followed me all the way to Lamark Caulaincourt, which for anyone who knows the Paris metro, is about 30 minutes with a directional line change on the 12 at the Concorde.
When we were waiting for the elevator (this particular station is in the bottom of Montmartre, which is like the San Francisco of Paris, so if you don't take the elevator you have to walk up like 40 flights of steps to get to street level) I half expected them to bust out tiny little knives and go for my Achilles Gage-style from Pet Sematary. I mean, seriously, look in the 4th photo the way that little girl is taunting me... leaning in my direction like she's about to jump out and start eatting my fingers as if they were chicken nuggets. I've got goose-bumps just thinking about it....Echoing giggle
Ring around the rosie, no!
Tiny hands of death
Thursday, February 26
Some of you who are loyal readers from the beginning may think that this lifeku strongly resembles "Man With Bad B.O." (one of the original lifekus) and it probably does. But I can't help that because the number of funk-nasty people that are all up in my personal space requires that I write at least one body odor related haiku per month. Brunette on the line 2 next to me a few days ago, you know who you are:
Stranger next to me
You are smelling pretty ripe
Deodorant, much?
Stranger next to me
You are smelling pretty ripe
Deodorant, much?
Thursday, February 19
Yesterday morning I saw one of those American tourists that makes me pretend I don't speak English. You know who I'm talking about: loud, obnoxious, slightly twangy southern accent, guide book, points at things, and asks how much this costs in "real money." [hangs head in shame] I figured he was going to McDonald's before making his obligatory stop at The Mona Lisa to complete his "Parisian Experience." In fact, I am almost positive that if you removed his North Face fleece, you most definitely find a t-shirt underneath with the words, "Git R Done." Honestly, tourists like that should be quarantined to Tennessee and Oklahoma, never to leave their precious amber waves of grain for fear of being spoken to in another language. [insert southern accent] "Hey, Pa! She's got a funny accent. Can we take her home and tie her up in the barn?"
Loud American
Lost on the Paris Metro
Watch your fannypack
PS: Is that not the most amazing picture ever?
Loud American
Lost on the Paris Metro
Watch your fannypack
PS: Is that not the most amazing picture ever?
Tuesday, February 17
Sometimes in the morning rush of the metro, when my body merges with what I like to call "The Human Cube," I go to my special place, my happy place. I just close my eyes and pretend I don't have 4 other people pressed up against me and one of them didn't brush their teeth. I normally look up towards the ceiling, because as French people are short, that is where there is the most air. Some of these times in the morning, I am wrenched out of my safe and happy place by an unsettling noise followed by a violently rotten odor. In these situations, everybody puts on their Not Guilty Face and begins to glance around in failed attempts to find the culprit. Except for sometimes, it's so obviously one person that you can't stop giggling to yourself while at the same time covering your face with your pashmina as to avoid suffocating:
Not so stealthy guy
I totally just heard you
Let a fat one rip
Not so stealthy guy
I totally just heard you
Let a fat one rip
Friday, January 2
Welcome to 2009 everybody! For the first week of the new year, we here at the Daily Lifeku have put together some Daily Resolutions, obviously in haiku form.
Today's resolution starts off the week with a little recommendation for those of you who have seem to forgotten the lost art of bladder control. If you think that this only applies to 8 year olds and your weird mentally handicapped cousin you only see once a year, you would be very very wrong. Just in the month of December, I witnessed not one, but two pee-myself moments on the metro that had every person in the car shoving themselves against the edges:
Resolution 1
Next year I will not pee on
Myself in public
Today's resolution starts off the week with a little recommendation for those of you who have seem to forgotten the lost art of bladder control. If you think that this only applies to 8 year olds and your weird mentally handicapped cousin you only see once a year, you would be very very wrong. Just in the month of December, I witnessed not one, but two pee-myself moments on the metro that had every person in the car shoving themselves against the edges:
Resolution 1
Next year I will not pee on
Myself in public
Wednesday, December 31: Reader Submission
Yes, I know it's New Year's (and Maureen's birthday) but Wednesday is Reader Submission Day and that's just how it is... so a lifeku about crazy all night antics will be posted tomorrow, after some crazy all night antics. Today's reader submission comes from Bill Corvino, who, like me, pays attention to weird stuff people do on the train. He explains:
I saw a woman on the train mouthing the words as she was reading. I realized appearances can be deceiving in NY where most women look sophisticated:
Your mouth is moving
as you read Harry Potter.
Congratulations.
PS: For those of you who know Maureen personally, today is her birthday and you should call her. [hint hint]
I saw a woman on the train mouthing the words as she was reading. I realized appearances can be deceiving in NY where most women look sophisticated:
Your mouth is moving
as you read Harry Potter.
Congratulations.
PS: For those of you who know Maureen personally, today is her birthday and you should call her. [hint hint]
Wednesday, November 19
I have recently stopped listening to music in the metro and taken up reading a book so that I can be more "aware" of what's going on around me, like the creepy dude in the corner whispering vulgarities in my direction. Before, I just didn't hear him, whereas now, I consciously ignore him. It's totally different, I assure you.
Homeless man in the
Metro, playing with yourself
Back away from me
Homeless man in the
Metro, playing with yourself
Back away from me
Poll: Homeless people usually
Thursday, November 6
Today's lifeku is yet another facet of the previously mentioned "Human Cube" and resulting air quality:
Morning commute guy
Do you bathe in Cool Water?
I need oxygen
Morning commute guy
Do you bathe in Cool Water?
I need oxygen
Wednesday, November 5
Sometimes I wish there was an easy way in French to say, "I dare you to do that again." They say "cap" or "pas cap" which is for are you capable or not capable, which basically sucks the balls that I don't have. Alas, I am left to fester in bitterness over my daily interactions, hoping that I don't one day punch an old lady in the face:
Extra rude lady
I double dog dare you to
Push me one more time
Extra rude lady
I double dog dare you to
Push me one more time
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