Walk left, stand right people. It's not rocket science.

It was inevitable. After becoming a Rocket rider again this January, because I'm not crazy enough to drive downtown, I remember, more and more, why I drive. Why I pay the hugely inflated gas/insurance prices. Because:


a) If someone farts in my car I know EXACTLY who it is (not me of course, I suffer from a debilitating disease that doesn't allow me to fart outside of my own washroom. It's called Shame, maybe you've heard of it)
b) There is to be no nose picking followed by flicking in my car
c) I can turn my music up as loud as I want and you can say shit old people


This morning I was riding on the train and this old man the first TWO of the above three. He LEANED to one side before he passed some rancid gas! He leaned!!! I was sitting the corner of the two-seaters and this guy was sitting in the first seat of the three-seaters right in front of me. He was working on his little sudoku puzzle in the paper and I saw him lean. I laugh a little to myself cause I know a couple of family members who lean, just like that, before the let it rip. Mind you, they only carry-on these ways in the comforts of their own home... and sometimes mine... but that's another rant all together. I thought that there was no way this man would execute "the lean" before punishing us all for the burrito he enjoyed last night. Obviously, when the pungent odour hit my nose holes, I realized I was wrong. Then he had the nerve to look around and see if anyone noticed. I NOTICED!! For a moment I thought I was the only one. That maybe I had just created the smell in my mind because I needed another reason to hate the TTC and he had done "the lean" but he wasn't getting something from his pocket or anything. Just then, a lady got on at the next stop and went to sit in the seat next to him... if you could have seen her face turn up!!! And the scowl!! LOL She went and sat way down at the other end of the train. Ha ha ha ha. Foulness. Yea, yea, yea. He's old, maybe he can't control it. He can damn well control the nose diggin though. The man went mining for nuggets in plain sight and FLICKED.. IT! It's 7:45 in the morning buddy, there is no chance that no one saw that! People don't have shame anymore?


Please people, for the love of my nostrils. STOP FARTING ON THE RUSH HOUR TRAINS!! I don't plan enough extra time in my morning commute to allow me to get off the train and wait for another one that doesn't smell like hard-boiled egg and sour milk.


Four words: Walk left, stand right. Not sayin anymore. Google it. There's songs about it. I swear. Google it.
For the hefty rocket rider, it may need to be changed to waddle left(which you probably won't do), squeeze futher to the right. Either way, MOVE!! Take the elevator. If The Simpsons has taught me nothing else, fat people are considered handicapped after a certain weight and can order special dialing wands if they mash the keypad with their palm, now.

He he he, that's funny.

Therefore, that elevator is there for you. Get your 3 dollars worth and ride that thing till you break it, which may not take too many trips depending on the level of your handicap (how fat you are). Lol. Anyways, I digress. Nothing pisses me off more than when I'm late (which is often/always) and I get a good stride going and some girlfriend/boyfriend feels that they must hold hands, side-by-side on the escalator. 30 seconds later, at the top of the escalator, I missed the train. 5 mins later, when the next train comes, I'm 5 mins late/later for work. Why do the rest of us have to suffer because you wanna have a PDA? MOVE!! Or feel the wrath of one of the longest teeth-suckins you'll ever experience and a cut-eye that will cut you through my sunglasses... or I might just say excuse me. Results may vary depending on day of the week and time of day. OK, NOW I'm not sayin anymore.

OK, am I the only person who notices when the train driver ain't too good at breaking? Like, sometimes, when I have to stand on the Yonge train in the morning, I swear the new guy is driving/learning how to drive. You'll know what I mean if you look around when they're pulling into the station and everyone's stumbling all over the place cause he don't stop with one fluid motion. It's always like, screech...... screeeech... scr.... screeeeeeeeech........ screeceeeeeh...... and then one more right at the end when you thought he was done... screech... and that's when the fat lady falls on you cause she thought she didn't have to hold the pole. Please stop training the new guys on the rush hour trains. It's too early in the morning and there are way too many people on the train for this shit. I miss you Honda.

Excuse me Madam, is this your kerchief?

I have proposal for you ok? Have you ever seen, back in the olden days, like the 1500's, when a girl had an interest in a man, she would ever so carefully drop her handkerchief? Ya know what I'm talking about? Then the dude would pick it up and gallantly return it to her if, he too, was interested.

I think we should bring it back!! Do you understand how much simpler that would make things?

Ok, imagine this. You're at the club and you see a sexy mandingo and you like his rhythm, style, wardrobe and all that junk. Right now, the only recourse you have is pretty cryptic and hit and miss. You shoot him a few looks or you dance your way over to him and smile a lot, all the while, hoping beyond hope that he's not an idiot who can't catch a clue or not gay.

This method can be sloppy and at times you may end up catching the attention of some one's dad who snuck in the club or worse yet, the attention of his very ugly/smelly/stupid/non-rhythmic sidekick/wingman/cousin. Not the most efficient method if you don't have time to be up in the club every night.

Introducing... dum da da daaaa... The Handkerchief! LOL I know. Just go with me on this for a minute... You get your most ballerific kerchief and step out to the club. Same dude, same scenario. You drop that bad boy at his feet. Now, I am in complete understanding that this could go one of two ways:

1. He could pick up the wickedly styled kerchief and strut his way over to you, present the kerchief to your awaiting (well lotioned) hand. If he's really good, he'll kiss the hand and the two of you can dance all night long like Lionel Ritchie.


2. He could step on your fancy kerchief or kick it, depending on how far out of your league you aimed. Is it a rejection? Yes. A harsh one? Yes, but an immediate rejection. If you think about it, you were gonna get rejected anyways. This way, you didn't spend an entire night trying drop hints in a bucket with no bottom. An entire Saturday night throwing looks at a man who was dodging them like boxer dodges jabs. Or worse yet, barking up the wrong tree.

The same scenarios can apply to shopping in the mall or drinking at the bar. Not to mention the accessorizing that can be done with the kerchief. The classy girl can get some sophisticated embroidery. The ghetto girl can get some bling-bling. Whatever says the most about you in what might only be a 2 second glance. Like a business card for dating purposes only. LOL Mine would be like a nice embroidered Barbados flag, because that actually says volumes to most West-Indian people.

So, what do you think? I think it's an awesome idea. Will it catch on, probably not. But hey, at least I'm trying. I mean, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I don't know why this ever went away... or maybe it never left... People throw their draws on stage at concerts. I guess it's a practiced that is only reserved for the baby-boomers, their parachute draws and the upper echelons of society now a days.

Just and idea. I just think I might get more out of a night at the club this way...