Sunday, December 16, 2007

Don't Touch Anything


Breakfast, brunch, and maybe lunch.
I saw a family of four fat white tourists walking down into the subway. It was a husband (wearing a sweatshirt bearing the logo of his favorite college sports team so as to avoid the inconvenience of millions of New Yorkers approaching him and asking where he was from), wife, and two boys under the age of ten, each wearing an "I♥NY" shirt.

As the foursome walked down the stairs into the station, one of the boys put his hand on the handrail so he didn't slip--some of the steps were icy. The fat guy dad yelled, "Don't touch anything!" He used the same kind of urgency that a veteran astronaut would use when telling a rookie astronaut not to touch the red button--you know, the one that makes bad stuff happen.

I hope that family goes back home to the Midwest soon, and I hope the dad gets hepatitis.

I like Pop Tarts when they have the candy on them.

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