Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Douchebag Central on the N

My beloved Astoria is home to many people. Guidos? Check. Guidopolises--Greek versions of Guidos--we've got 'em. Drunks? Come to my subway stop. We can grab a cup of joe at Dunkin D's and then go to the pawn shop afterwards where perhaps they are having a champagne lunch. See link below for more deets:


My point is, you can find anyone under the sun in Astoria, but truth be told, you don't often find a lot of douchebags. They tend to remain in Manhattan, in enclaves like the Upper East Side or Murray Hill. In rare occasions they settle in Park Slope in Brooklyn. But Queens? They'd rather visit their girlfriend's grandmother in Westchester.

Living in a douchebag-free zone is wonderful. Here is a conversation you will never hear in Astoria: "I can't believe Dick Fuld sold his house to his wife for $100!" No one talks about Madoff, Bear Stearns, or private jets. You never hear anyone say, "You know what I read in the Wall Street Journal today?" No, instead they ask: "Which headline on the A-Rod scandal did you like more? The Post's 'Alex Dropped A-Bomb' or the Daily News' 'Call him A-Roid'?" I go with the Post.

My point is, people's snobbery will keep them away from Queens. Which is fine with me! I love my nabe and its affordable rents and awesome restaurants and dive bars! Until today, when the douchebags got on my train.

Let me explain: After my Weight Watchers meeting (I lost 1.8 lb, woohoo!) I walked up to Herald Square to catch my train. I got on the last car in the N and sat down and pulled out my book. Three youngish guys, probably late 20s, early 30s, were standing at the back of the car. They were wearing suits and looked like they worked in finance. And then they opened their mouths, and I KNEW they worked in finance.

"Yeah, her Facebook picture isn't that hot, her teeth look bad, I just think she takes bad photos. But I'd still her take her down! Her body is smokin'."

My mouth dropped, I put my book away, and grabbed my Moleskin and started taking notes, all Harriet the Spy-style.

"And then this guy did business with my father and he decided to sue my dad for everything he's worth. My father decided it wasn't worth the hassle and ended up settling and giving him $2 million."

At this point the trained pulled up the 59th and Lex, the last stop in Manhattan before the N heads to Queens. Oh good, I thought, the douchebags will get off here and transfer to the 6 so they can take the train uptown to their nice little apartment at 85th and 1st. Right?

Wrong. The douchebags stayed on! They were coming to a foreign land, Queens!!!

"You know, if I saw the guy who settled with my dad now, I'd thrown both my Blackberrys at him."

Douchebag #1 proceeded to talk to his cronies Douchebag #2 and Douchebag #3 about how he cheated on his girlfriend, but only because she's psycho. Luckily, the trio got off at Queensboro Plaza, the first stop in Queens. I was able to enjoy the rest of my journey in peace. I am still clueless as to why they set foot in my borough in the first place. I pray to God that they are just visiting, and that this weekend I won't see them at, say, O'Hanlon's. I'd just have to throw my cheap cell phone at them.

But overall I am not an angry nor bitter person. I am not a xenophobe either! I welcome my yuppie friends to Astoria, just as long as you are not wearing a popped collar! And lest I forget about the mission statement of this blog, I did eat some delicious free food today. It was . . . a cupcake! And I am so NOT going to feel guilty about it or apologize for it. Screw my wannabe intervention and my semi-shame about my love for all things chocolate, I'm proud to eat sweets! Who wants to date a stick thin girl anyway? She probably never eats wings, or drinks beer! She probably beats up everyone to get a choice spot in step class at New York Sports Club! Me, I keep it real!

Love you all. And douchebags--please stay in Manhattan. Thank you.


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