It Burns When I Ride The Magic Stairs

It's been a long hard day today. I woke up with a headache. Missed my train. Got in late to work. Was at work. These are all things that generally don't lend themselves to my peace, tranquility and general mental health. So maybe this rant is slightly insane. It could be unfounded. Maybe no one else on the planet gets angry at the people I'm about to go off on. But if that is truly the case, then fuck all of you, because these people suck!

Let me start at the beginning... The very beginning. I've spent almost my entire life in The City. (I say 'The City' instead of the actual name because it sounds more fucking pompous that way. And if you don't know which city I'm talking about, then please, take a hot glue gun and seal up your urethra because you're not a real American and you don't deserve to breed. Also if you are, in fact, not American, I apologize. I'm talking about New York... And you may want to see a doctor about those burns.) I was born here, raised here, and I'll probably die here. Why explain this? Just so you know where I'm coming from. When I was maybe 3 or 4 years old, I was first introduced to an amazing technological wonder. It was called an escalator (although at the time, I knew it simply as "Magic Stairs"). The idea of stairs that you could climb without exerting even the tiniest amount of effort, was astounding to a future lazy fuck-wit like myself. I decided that I must learn how to use this contraption. And the beauty was, it didn't really take that long. I put one foot on the moving floor, then the other, and BAM, I was fucking moving! I was barely a toddler, and somehow I was able to conquer this marvel of modern science in only one, possibly two tries. Now, I'm not trying to brag. Certainly this accomplishment is nothing to be proud of. Escalators are simple and easy to understand and use. I am merely setting the stage for a juxtaposition, of a somewhat normal human being, with the semi-retarded mouth-breathing mutants I come in to contact with in my daily life.

So, now I ask you, dear reader, have you ever ridden the magic stairs (read: not my dick)? If the answer is yes, have you ever been stuck behind one of the assholes, who walks up to the escalator, and acts like it's the first fucking time they've ever seen one? If the answer is no, then guess what... you are the asshole! You are the person (usually female, any age, but completely unattractive) who holds one foot hovering in mid air, trying to learn the rhythm of the escalator's movement, so that you may place your dainty little foot in the mathematical dead center of the metal square, which you have previously chosen and cleared to be the best square on the escalator... FUCK YOU! This person has a personality quirk. She lives in paralyzing fear of anything and everything which she does not understand. And since this person is usually a female, she is most likely terrified of everything except rock hard cock. (I kid, I kid)

This type of behavior, while insanely frustrating and annoying, is not without its benefits, even though they are very rare. One such benefit, I have named 'The Esca-Split' a.k.a. 'The Metal Mustache Ride.' This occurs when someone with the afore mentioned, Type-Douche Personality, approaches a down-escalator, and performs the fear-inspired move described above. Only now, when she shifts her weight onto her front foot, she hesitates. And while her front foot and body keep moving down with the escalator, her back foot stays planted on the non-moving ground, resulting in an incredibly painful gymnast's split (hence the name Esca-Split). What's the benefit? It is fucking hilarious to watch a grown woman on an escalator with her legs wide open and the edge of a metal stair grinding her cooch (hence the name Metal Mustache Ride). If you look into her eyes at the exact right moment, you can see both the intense pain and the unspeakable pleasure she is feeling... Unfortunately, when she begins approaching the bottom of the escalator, the pleasure disappears and the pain triples, as the metal stair that was massaging her precious meat flaps, attempts to recede back into itself, scraping the inside of her vagina on the way.

That's right, I used the actual term for lady parts and not just another euphemism. Fuckin' sue me.

So I'm sure many of you lovely readers are wondering, what the point of this rant/detailed description of escalator rape is. Well, if I had a point, this blog wouldn't be called ...and fuck you too. But I guess if you must walk away from this with a lesson let it be this... 1) Never hesitate. 2) Be mindful of how long something is taking you and how many people it is keeping from continuing on with their day. And 3) If you are sexually assaulted by an escalator, you probably deserve it, so just take it like the dirty little slut you are (and try not to let it scrape your pooter).

Love,
G