Men of Penn Station

I had no idea I had so much love (totally lying) until @superbadrross called me out on my laziness (totally true) via Instagram (follow him, he likes stalkers). Thanks a lot! I was taking a Facebook IQ test when he ripped the pseudo shower curtain away to reveal me soaking in my tub of laziness. * Splash! My IQ test says I’m only 140, btw. I didn’t feel like answering the last few questions. Thanks for asking. 😛

With a respectful nod to @superbadrross, I’ll now dive back into posting in a completely Fresh mood, including the reasons why commuting through Penn Station is more depressing than visiting a jail. At least when visiting a jail (totally lying — I’ve never visited a jail) you know you can leave at any time. Penn Station — not so much. Penn Station train schedules are like dating: You never really know when your train will pull in. And that huge information screen above the ticket sellers? Lies. All lies.

So as I stood in my totally rad Banana Republic pea coat (with button falling off the lapel) with last years (gasp) Coach bag, I snootily watched the men run by as they attempted to hitch a ride on the nearest (lyingly) scheduled train. What I discovered is that the vast majority of men (and women, but that’s another post), fell into an interesting allotment of categories for which the likes of Harper’s Bazaar will probably never publish. Until an accountant friend of mine came by to say hello, this is the list I accumulated:

The Fat Aviator
This entry clearly disregards my own personal muffin-top and shoots straight for making fun of someone else. This poor man came up the stairs — defeated — sunglasses leading the winded charge as he ascended the stairs. I’m guessing he missed the train. But hey, totally hot sunglasses, yo.

Running Accountants
I couldn’t believe the amount of men who looked like they could be accountants. Tall ones, short ones, thin ones, large ones. They all visually screamed, “I’m an accountant!” and I could almost imagine the ticker tapes waving in the breeze as they ran by.

Retro College Nerd
One guy ran by me who looked like he fell out of bed on his way to economics class. Eight years ago.

Guy Who Just Gave Up
Wasn’t there an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry asked George, when he walked in with sweatpants, “Wha’d’ja just give up?” As I stood in Penn Station, one guy ran by in crumpled, chip-stained sweats, like he just gave up (on life, not chips)… Although now that I think about my own personal dating drama, I can’t blame the guy. I may throw him a cocktail next time.

Mad Men Man
This guy ran by with the entire bod-nod to Man Men. And hell, he ran in style. But I couldn’t help but wonder with such tight pants, where does the sweat go?

Super Tall Hottie
This man ran by and all I could think was, “Hot damn, he’s tall.” I couldn’t find anything remotely weird or funny about him because he seemed stylish, put-together and sleek. Just a super tall guy running by. Tall. Super tall.

Overweight Sweating Husband
Vurp. Seriously? I’m sorry. Wait… no I’m not. This is the guy that makes me want to throw my blondness down on the ground and with hands reaching high to the sky in crazy-ass praise and say, “THANK THE LORD – I TRUST YOU! KEEP ME SINGLE IF YOU’RE KEEPING ME FROM SWEATY, RANK, HAIRY, SEX!” (*Heebie jeebies…)

Super Huge Headphones Guy
I turned around at one point to see a gentleman staring at me. I’m assuming he realized I was watching and typing, but he has no idea I’m now posting about the super huge headphones that were perched on his head like a possessively perched cat. He did appear sophisticated,and perhaps he can hear the rings of Saturn hum via his Beats by Dre. (I have no idea what that means – I just made that sh!t up just now.)

Backpack Suit Dude
This kills me. Hours in the shower, in front of the mirror, choosing shoes… “Oh hey, Hon – where’s my backpack?” Seriously? I shed a tear every time I see Backpack Suit Dudes. Dude – you came so close! So close!

Sunglasses Removal Refusal Guy
Oh for the love of everything holy, Man, take off the shades! You’re in the armpit of society here in Penn Station, you’re not impressing anyone but maybe the guy with three garbage bags of cans sleeping in the corner.

There’s a 6-Pack Under My Insulated Cooler, Man
I’m guessing in years past he was the High School Hottie. I can make fun of this insulated guy all I want, but if I don’t get my own ass under control I too will have a super cooled 6-pack. And that really ain’t cool.

Now that I’ve sufficiently made fun of everyone actually moving their ass through Penn Station, I’ll move mine. Jillian Michaels, here I come. Uhg!

 

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