64 Bus to Central Sq. Red faced asshole in a grey suit.

May 4, 2009

There are certain things that each of us learns while in grade school.  I know you went to grade school because you were claiming that you did while using your “outside voice” while “inside” the bus.  Normally, I would let one or two of your public transportation transgressions slide.  Everyone deserves the right to act like a dick on occasion.  ON OCCASION.  YOU, on the other hand, managed to violate every safety/ courtesy/ grade school bus rule on the fucking planet.   I shall take the time to list them for you:

Face forward in your seat:  While you were chattering away facing into the aisle, sitting in a seat that faces forward, I counted no less than twelve people trying to get past your smarmy ass to the back of the bus.  You didn’t say exuse me, you didn’t move, you just tripped them (myself included) and let them go by without a sorry about that.

Keep feet and parcels off the seat:  While you were chattering away and facing into the aisle, your feet were crossing the aisle and planted on your friends seat across the way.  This blocks the progress of anyone and everyone that needs to get to and from the exit, in front of which, you strategically planted yourself.  Fuck you!

Use your “inside voice”:  While you were proclaiming to God and everybody, your reason for being on the bus today, I saw not one or two but four people ask you to lower your voice.  What did you do?  Nothing, you didn’t even acknowledge their presence.  You completely ignored the fact that there were folks who wanted to hate being on public transportation in silence.  Instead they had to hate being there, while you were there too.  Fuck you!

I could go on all day sir.  You ruined the bus ride for myself and several others, and all because you couldn’t lay off the sauce while driving, yeah I picked up that one while you were nattering your buddies ear off as well.  So I’d like to congratulate you one being the biggest fucktard I’ve encountered in quite some time.  Thank you for being the red-faced-asshole in the grey suit.  Without you my day would have started pleasantly and I wouldn’t have had anything to write about today.

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What is under all that cologne?

May 2, 2009

What is under all that cologne? (Red Line Cambridge)


Reply to: pers-c3uhz-1150984501@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-05-02, 1:44PM EDT

Every morning I ride the red line. Every morning it’s the same damn thing. The train pulls up, the doors woosh open, and the smell of a hundred cologne dipped bodies wafts it’s way on to the platform. I have to fight my way through the miasma of conflicting scents to get to a seat. Talc, musk, flower, pheromone stench seeps its way into my pores and sticks to my clothes. The smell is almost intoxicating, as I ride through seven stops of stinky on my way to work. I finally get to my destination, relieved that I no longer have to smell the warring oral factory personalities on the train. What a relief. Isn’t it odd that I’d rather smell the stench of Boston at low tide, than the red line on Monday morning?  What are you hiding that you need to cover it under all that cologne?  Are you some kind of stinky human hybrid?  One that needs to mask it’s scent with a good dousing a Stetson?  Did you forget to shower this morning and thus, must cover your body odor?  What exactly is under all that cologne?

  • Location: Red Line Cambridge
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PostingID: 1150984501

Flatulence on the Silver Line

May 2, 2009

Flatulence on the Silver Line (World Trade Center Stop)


Reply to: pers-7rwzm-1150940835@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-05-02, 1:19PM EDT

*Sniff*…*Sniff* Something smells funny in here… It takes a while for my sleep fogged brain to catch up as I’m riding the Silver Line bus to the World Trade Center stop. I was in that place between waking and sleeping, my head being rhythmically bounced against the window. *Sniff* No longer is the smell funny, it is most unfunny. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in rich neighborhoods where they can afford to throw out a lot of meat. But the smell on that bus was identical to the smell of rotting meat.

My God! The smell has intensified, I can tell by the looks on the faces of those around me that they can smell it to. I start looking about to see if I can find the guilty party. No one wants to mention the smell, to do so would be to automatically assign blame, as the old maxim goes, “He who smelt it dealt it.” The rest of the bus riders are more noticeably uncomfortable, they too are seeking the stinky party. My gaze lights on a young Asian American woman seated about two rows back. She’s the only one not looking around, and the only one not holding her nose! There! I have found her, the person who smells like something crawled up her ass and died! It must be her! She’s not making a face because farts don’t smell bad to the person who expelled them. I refused to believe that she just had a stuffy nose.

By this point people are pressing against the doors in anticipation of vacating the bus upon it’s arrival at the stop. The bus pulls into the station and the doors open, letting in a blast of amazingly fresh air. I thankfully take a deep breath and debark from the Silver line. Looking back into the bus, I see a large pile of shit…. Possibly human…. The phantom pooper strikes again!

**Disclaimer, some of these stories may or may not be true, could or could not have occurred, at some time, or no time. All stories by YourBeard are solely owned by YourBeard and are not to be used for your own nefarious purposes**

  • Location: World Trade Center Stop
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1150940835

Disclaimer

April 25, 2009

Some or none of the stories on this blog may or may not be true.  Most or a minimal amount of these stories are absolute bullshit.

 

Your Beard.

Pregnant woman steals smoothie (Coolidge Corner)

April 23, 2009

Pregnant woman who steals smoothie (Coolidge corner)


Reply to: pers-8jcja-1136776996@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-04-23, 4:11PM EDT

As soon as she walked into the creperie I didn’t trust her. She had the shifty eyes, a mustache, and a strange bulge protruding from below her breasts. I didn’t want to stare, I hear that people with large tumors don’t like them stared at. I had just finished ordering my smoothie when she bellied up to the counter and turned her arctic stare to the menu and then to me.

The clerk called out my order “One massive strawberry banana smoothie”

“Thank God!” I thought to myself, I didn’t know how much more scrutiny I could stand from this woman. She must have noticed me staring at her tumor er, stomach.

I reached for my smoothie, when it was snatched from beneath my hand! The harpy had appropriated it for her own! I was shocked, but I would not let this travesty stand.

“Excuse me ma’am, that’s my smoothie” I said politely

“I’m pregnant!” She growled at me.

I knew that some other entity had to be pulling the strings, the thing that was within her was controlling her actions entirely. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at me over the top of my smoothie cup. I returned her glare stare for stare.

“Ma’am regardless of your inability to use a prophylactic, that is my smoothie, I paid for it, and I am certain that the people who work here would be more than willing to make you one”

I took my smoothie from her hand and walked out the door. Leaving her sputtering in my wake.

  • Location: Coolidge corner

The suit mentality strikes again… – w4m – 24 (Orange line)

September 17, 2008
So, you’re a suit. One of those types that IS the job. I can dig it, us types that live life, need your types to live work. However, your suit status, does not grant you immunity from the common courtesies that we all must bow to.

For instance, when a nice young lady in a wheel chair gets on the train, get out of her way. Don’t stand there in your suit, looking down at her (literally) with your bad lunch face, trying to decide the best way to be a snide fuck. Just move. She attempted to maneuver her motorized wheel chair around you for five minutes, blocking the door and making me very late. I don’t blame her, I blame you, and only you, for being you. A soulless, hate filled, suitwearing, fucktard.

I finally had to get up and ask you to move, thusly getting my seat stolen, by another suit just like yourself. I have to ask myself if it wasn’t planned. But then I realized, no, it wasn’t, it’s just the same “I’m a privileged fuck-hole” mentality that haunts me, through privileged fuck-holes like yourself and your suit wearing buddy.

So, to avoid having to talk to “scary street folk” like myself, don’t stand in the fucking way, on the fucking train, while some nice lady in a fucking wheel chair, attempts to board. Get out of the way you self absorbed shite.

Have a great day!

  • Location: Orange line
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 844513837

One thing that I still don’t get Orange line inbound 830AM – w4m – 24 (Orange line)

September 2, 2008

Date: 2008-09-02, 3:41PM EDT

I could smell it as soon as I stepped on to the train. The astringent tang of mouth wash. I sat down next to you, you were sleeping, I think. You snuggled up to me, regardless of my bad lunch face, and proceeded to put your head on my shoulder. Opening your mouth to snore, you wafted more, mouthwash smell up into my face.

Maybe I should apologize for getting up just as the train stopped. Thusly dumping your mouthwash smelling ass into the frighteningly militant looking woman sitting next to me. Or for the fact that she proceeded to wake you from your blissful “sleep” with her angry tirade at your falling onto her. I should have stepped in and said, “no the smelly man was sleeping on me, and I moved so his blunder into your bosoms was my bad.”

I’m sort of glad that I didn’t. Next time you want to guzzle mouth wash and pass out on the train, don’t do it on me. And next time I won’t just dump you into someone’s lap, I’ll break a fucking finger.

Location: Orange line

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wow… C line wednesday night – w4m – 24 (C line park st.)

August 28, 2008

Date: 2008-08-28, 10:48AM EDT

Wow. That is the only thing I could think when I saw the size of your forehead. Magnificent, grandiose, awe inspiring, shiny. A-fucking-mazing. You are a brave man, walking around with a skullett like that. Long flowing locks, down to your shoulders. Your hairline beating a hasty retreat to join your back hair. No beard to speak of, but that’s okay, nobody is perfect.

You waxed poetic on a number of topics all the way to North station. Your date seemed apathetic. Don’t worry though, there are plenty of women out there who would love a man with a “forehead” as big as yours.

  • Location: C line park st.
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PostingID: 816545202

Look at you… – w4m – 24 (Downtown Crossing)

August 27, 2008

Reply to: pers-815333135@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-08-27, 1:21PM EDT

Look at you. Bald. Bearded. Beautiful. Your nose curls so attractively away from your face, in a direction that defies the laws of physics.

Mustache long enough to blend from your upper lip into your beard. It must be a challenge to eat with your facial hair obscuring your toothless gummy maw. You are a work of art. Shuffling morosely back and forth in front of the building you guard.

I sure do feel secure knowing one such as yourself is guarding the paper store down town.

I salute you.

  • Location: Downtown Crossing
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 815333135

Way to go… – w4m – 24 (orangle line)

August 27, 2008

Reply to: pers-815227589@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-08-27, 12:08PM EDT

So, you’ve achieved your life long goal. I am so proud of you. It would appear that you have finally reach the pinnacle of success as a bump on a fucking log. Congratulations.

I was train surfing this morning, as I do every morning, as you see me every morning on the Orange Line. As with every other day, you nod and smile congenially as you make your way to your seat. This morning was different, no
seat available. I saw the panic in your eyes.

“Oh no” you must have though to yourself
“I have to touch something”

So you grip with forefinger and thumb, barely touching the pole for fear of picking up some kind of poor people disease. I could see the sweat glistening off of your opulent jowls, to be kind, I would say your figure is “Rubinesque” Your breathing heavy, because you have to stand shoulder to shoulder with the types of folks that disturb you the most.

You are terrible at standing up on the train, the entire ride you were smashing and crashing into your fellow passengers. At one particularly violent turn, you smashed right the fuck into me and I sat down on a small person (not sure what gender).

No “I’m sorry” no “excuse me” just smashing and crashing your way into the city, while myself and everyone else just had to live through the destruction of your being unable maintain your balance long enough to get a stable footing.

I’m not hating, not everyone has a sense of balance, although most of us have enough strength in our upper bodies to support ourselves when the train moves in a new and exciting direction. Or at least the constitution to grip the bar like a man, not some lily livered wilting flower.

Not all of us surrender ourselves to the rhythm of the train and become a bowling pin about to tip itself and its friendly fellows over, not all of us are so fucking rude that we don’t say “pardon me” when you step/fall on/ run into/ destroy your fellow passengers with your unwieldy bulk.

Here are your options sir.

Don’t take the train.

Learn to ride the train.

When you see a full train wait for one to have enough seats for you to snag one, because I’m pretty sure your crappy sense of balance can be used as a deadly weapon.

If you ever want to learn how to train surf, hit me up.

  • Location: orangle line
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 815227589