Don’t Be That Dude: Bathroom Chatterbox

Shhush up, dude! Not in here!

Zip your lip, then zip it up, and meet me over by the sink.

I refuse to talk to you at the urinal, dude.

When guys step up to the urinal, it’s for one thing and one thing only. Eyes on the wall, concentrate on the task at hand, wash up, and get back out there. This goes for when you’re at a bar, at work, the baseball game – anywhere you share a restroom with other people.

Don’t start talking to me about last night’s game. Don’t strike up a conversation about that girl you’ve been talking to all night. Don’t tell me about some great new investment that you really think I should get in on before it blows up. And especially don’t make any idle chit-chat! I hate that dude.

If you’re bored in the restroom, it’s because you’re supposed to be. Oh, and what’s up with that pose? You have your hands on your hips, as if you’re superman. Hilarious, dude! In a bad way.

Anyway, how are you not grossed out, talking to me while you’re, you know, and I’m, well, you know?

I’m even uncomfortable chatting with you over here by the sinks. Can’t whatever is so important wait, until we’re outside?

Oh, and by the way, same goes for when you’re in the stall. Don’t be talking to me through the stall door. And stop making cell phone calls in there too. That’s disgusting, dude. You spend way too much in the bathroom. Are you dealing drugs again?

Just kidding. But I'm not kidding about your bathroom etiquette. 

Stop thinking the restroom is for socializing. Don't be that dude!

Beware the MumbleHiss!

Commuting on the Long Island Rail Road is one, giant ball of annoying. Late trains, smelly trains, crowded trains, fares that pay no observance to the laws of gravity…but perhaps there is no single greater annoyance than the MumbleHiss.

Oh, you’ve never heard of this creature? Consider yourself lucky. It is surely like none I’ve ever heard before.

Don’t get me wrong; the MumbleHiss, like Frankenstein’s monster, is well intended. But it is grating to every sense and common sense, nonetheless. It typically sits next to, across from, or behind me with its best friend — which could be another person or a smartphone. It talks in tones loud enough to be heard, but low enough so that only “Mumble, mumble, mumble, hiss, hiss,” becomes discernible. The mantra is hypnotic, and I find myself transcendentally transported to some suburban soccer field as I desperately start to to care about  what is being discussed.

“Mumble, mumble, hiss, hiss.”

Unfortunately, this creature is protected by a bunch of crazy liberal laws devised hundreds of years by some socialists. Until we can get these laws changed, or eradicated completely, we must learn to coexist with the MumbleHiss.

So, when you prepare for your morning commute, make sure you pack a pair of earphones, lest you become the MumbleHiss’s next victim. Of course, don’t turn your MP3 player too high, or you may turn into a BoomBoomChit. You know what that is, don’t you?