So there's this girl I sometimes see on the subway on my way to work. Even though I haven't exchanged two words with this person, I loathe her. She emits a stank of cheese and annoyance that's more than enough to justify my dislike.
I first noticed her one morning when she entered the train dropping shit all over the place and stinking up the car with a particularly noxious brand of perfume. Ew and she was rocking the Ugg boot-skirt combo. I, for one, think that this is a truly horrendous pairing and can't wait until it dies a much-deserved death.
In our first encounter, Cheesy Girl tried to wedge her very wide ass into a seat that was already semi-occupied by the overhang of the passengers on the left and right. Now lest you think Cheesy Girl has a bountiful backend to be envied and admired, I have to interject and say no, that's not true. It's a most unfortunate shape. It's like two big bunions are sticking out of her thighs. Its shape totally defies the "back" classification. It's more like she's got "side."
Now technically the seat she had her eye on was available but really, only Olive Oyl could sit in it comfortably. And that's debatable. So as Cheesy Girl was making her descent into the seat, the train lurched sending her careening into the lap of a very petite, nebbish-looking woman reading The New York Times Magazine. Understandably, this woman was not pleased with her unexpected lap dance.
Cheesy Girl earned a smattering of icy glares when her entrance roused some riders from their reading or sleepy haze. But her dogged pursuit of jamming that ass of hers into a space far too small to accommodate it really incurred the wrath of the entire car. We glowered and silently and collectively cheered her neighbors' refusal to budge.
At the next stop, a seat opened up to my right so Cheesy Girl surrendered the tug-of-war and lunged using a rather impressive head-first slide technique. For the rest of the trip, I got to see that thick, scary clown makeup up close while her eau de toilette held my throat in a vice-like grip.
I had the misfortune of being trapped on the same car again today. Actually, I think she went easy on the perfume today because her stench went undetected for about two stops. I didn't notice her until her wide rump magically appeared in a newly-available seat that I had designs on. I simultaneously admired her maneuver and cursed her for robbing me of a place to park my tired ass.
If she would just sit in her seat smelling up the car and not making a commotion, she'd blend in with a good portion of MTA riders. But Cheesy Girl draws attention to herself and that's why I hate her. Shortly after sitting, she started fishing around in her bag, elbowing all in her vicinity and making quite the racket. After much fanfare she produced an iPod housed in a knit cozy (naturally) and then promptly flooded the car with the Dixie Chicks (I think) and then "ABC" by The Jackson Five.
Eyes darted in her direction and fixed a disapproving gaze as she assaulted us with her pedestrian music library. As it was, her behavior wasn't doing much in the way of improving the white girl image so I was hoping she'd either turn down the music or at least cue up a respectable song. Yeah not quite. Remember how I said I was the biggest honkey ever? Well, there's a new Queen of the Crackers, ladies and gentlemen. Want to take a guess what the next song on Cheesy Girl's iPod was?
"All out of Love" by, yes, Air Supply. I shit you not.
Ten bucks says these songs can also be found on her playlist:
"I Will Survive"
"Build Me Up Buttercup"
"Thank God I'm a Country Boy"
Any other guesses?