moon_custafer: (acme)
Woman behind me on the bus: "If I ever have kids, I'm going to keep the kid home from school the day before every full moon, just to see how long it takes the teachers to notice."
moon_custafer: (Default)
Two guys on the back of the Jane bus:

Guy 1: Well, if we're late, we'll be fashionably late (flips hair).
Guy 2: You will. I'm not fashionable.
Guy 1: Well, we'll be good-cop, bad-cop. You'll be the tough cop who grew up in the ghetto, and I'll be the swanky upper-class cop.
Guy 2: Steven, that's not how good-cop, bad-cop works.
Guy 1: OK, then. Bad-cop, bad-cop?
moon_custafer: (no pie)
Young woman walking a few paces behind me: "...and I'm sick of this 'real' bullshit. What are we, fuckin' robots? Everyone's real."

Not sure of the context, but I agree with her.
moon_custafer: (Default)
Two managers in my office, discussing a possible new hire:

"So, he was an elderly man?"

"I couldn’t get a bead on his age."

"But he had a 'grim reaper' personality?"

"Not his personality, his appearance. Like, dyed jet-black hair, black suit, black tie, white shirt, really tall and skinny… he rescues cats."

"He’s Superman?!"

"He didn’t look as though he was wearing tights under his suit."

...

"But what’s all this cat-saving going to bring to the job?"

"Nothing, I just asked what he did outside of work."
moon_custafer: (fez)
Bartender: ... and the only thing that saved me was that the guy the cops were looking for had brown eyes, so eventually they realized that I wasn't him.

Patron: Yeah. When Sally got mistaken for someone else she kept pointing out that the girl they were looking for was five foot two, and that she couldn't have grown an inch in a month. But they wouldn't listen. They thought she was this serial killer from Texas.

Bartender: They thought they'd found their prize.

Patron: I'd think that the average serial killer from Texas preys on honeycomb.

Bartender: Actually, I always thought Sally *was* a serial killer.
moon_custafer: (Default)
Two young women, ahead of me in the checkout line at the grocery store:

"That was a weird mission you were on."

"What mission?"

"That time you cut your tongue on a gobstopper, so you decided the gobstopper was &*$#! evil and you made us row out to the middle of the lake so you could drown it."

"That never happened."

"I was *there!*"

"Your memory is skewed."

"Why would I make something like that up?!"
moon_custafer: (Default)
Two women on streetcar: Can we get off here?

Driver: If you step down, the doors should open.

Women: We are leaving Canada.
moon_custafer: (Default)
Orderly, outside hospital: I told you, he was fuckin' trained by José. Crazy José. Bloody José. The Zamboni driver.
moon_custafer: (Default)
Had to wait most of the day for green_trilobite's ebay auction to finish, but we eventually got to go to the boardwalk. While we were finishing dinner on the Sunnyside Cafe patio we saw a guy paragliding with a big fan strapped to his back.*

Later:

Good Humour Man: "Overpriced popsicles! Get your overpriced popsicles here! Anybody? Overpriced ice cream!"

(The Fan Man comes back for another flypast.)

Passerby (to his friend): "Hey, look at that guy! Look! Look! Hey, look! Look! Look! Look! (gets distracted by two women) Hey, you with the big ass - can I get your number?"

Woman with Big Ass: "I don't *have* a number."


*ETA: Apparently it's actually called powered paragliding.
moon_custafer: (Default)
Overheard in Toronto:

Man in donut shop lineup :...and then I had to stand up to a firestruck... (makes talking gestures with his hands. Then he lights a cigarette and I'm cowardly to tell him not to, because he'd stood up to a fire truck.)

Woman and her grandmother behind me on Queen streetcar, talking at length about cranially-conjoined twins; suddenly:
Grandmother:
Hey! there's a hardware store! but the sign says it sells few-tons? Those things don't seem to go together.
Woman: It must be one of those mixed-product stores.

theengineer (just as other conversations in room simultaneously pause):Then there's the nebula that looks like it's giving us the finger...
moon_custafer: (Default)
Crotchety old man on streetcar (to another): "You know what the big thing is with the kids these days? They get together on bicycles, six or seven of them, and then ride along the sidewalk, and you know those fruit stands? They knock them over, and throw the fruits and vegetables into the street."


There was a lot more of this sort of thing, which I won't subject you to, but we had to hear about 20 minutes of it. I at least was wryly amused, but green_trilobite, who is a bit of a Crotchety Old Man himself, had some difficulty holding his tongue.
moon_custafer: (Default)
...rental ad on a bulletin board that began, "tired of small, dingy, depressing bachelors?".....


Bike chained to a bike rack, with a large aluminum ladder chaine to the wheel of the bike, either to keep people from stealing the ladder or to really make sure no one steals the bike; although I pictured a rogue division of the Beijing Circus making off with the combination, balancing aloft on the ladder while wheeling along, or perhaps vice versa.....
moon_custafer: (Default)
It is a hot, sunny day. In the back of a TTC bus, three Chinese-Canadian teenage girls are looking at snapshots of themselves on a cameraphone:

First girl - Ohmygod, she is so white.

Second girl -What, you have a problem with white people?

First girl - Not White white, Chinese-people-white. Like, you really need to get a tan.


Thought balloon above my head - Daffy Duck voice: Hmmmm - Homonym Trouble...


I suppose this could count as my belated Blog Against Racism Day entry.



Further overheard conversation dealing with pallor

White guy and Asian woman in a restaurant, discussing their co-workers' dress sense -
WG - Seriously, he is so white, I'm like, "do you have a tunnel that goes from your basement apartment to your basement office?"
moon_custafer: (Default)
Last week, on the subway:

Guy: ...and I said, Dude, I lack your sense of urgency. I mean, I used to work in an AIDS hospice - if stuff didn't get delivered on time, people died. In my new job, a guitar string doesn't get delivered on time, they, what, play one less song tonight?


Donut shop, yesterday.

Old lady: ...so my husband springs out of bed, he just can't wait to get out and - go to the tavern.

Guy in line-up: ...Where he sits at a table and talks to his friends all day , just like you're doing.

Old lady: No.

Guy in lineup: Yeah. Same activity, different drink. I mean, it's ok if coffee is your beverage of choice --

Old lady: I'd have a Singapore Sling, but they don't serve them here.

Old guy at her table: I had a coffee and a Singapore Sling last Christmas.

Another old guy: Hey, I'll give you seven dollars if you'll make me a Singapore Sling.
moon_custafer: (Default)
Possibly mis-overheard at the Bishop & Belcher:

"So then you could have Earth Hitler vs. Space Hitler."

Probably overheard correctly, from the same guy:

"It's not like I can say, 'Excuse me sir, are you a eunuch? Were you castrated at birth to improve your singing?'"
moon_custafer: (Default)
One of the more poetic Insane Muttering Guys I’ve heard was behind us today on the streetcar: “The Chinese may win the Nobel Prize,” he announced to no one in particular, “but not for literature. Not while I’m around. Look, there’s High Park. I used to live in there. I built me a home there. No one could see it - it was underground,“ he continued, veering into full-blown Tom Waits territory. “Built it into the side of a hill; lived there homeless for twenty-five years...”

I think he might have been the “Flags on the Moon” guy I heard on the same streetcar line a few years ago.

A few hours later, a scene from a movie was unrolling at the table behind me at Mel’s. An old guy with an even gravelier voice than the Underground guy was talking to a younger man and, I think, a young woman, about various subjects, primarily Italians and boxing. I couldn’t quite figure out if he liked or disliked Italians in general, but he definitely mistrusted southpaws. “Never trust a left-handed wop,” he growled. Then he claimed his dad had been friends with Joe Louis. Then he said, “How ‘bout that Candaleeza (sic) rice? If I were Black, I’d make her. She’s the most powerful lady in America. Who’s yer favourite movie star?” he apbruptly asked the young man.
“James Cagney.”
“Cagney!? Cagney!? What about Joe Piscapo!!”

Hoax?

Feb. 24th, 2005 10:20 pm
moon_custafer: (Default)
Today as we walked into the North end of the Eaton's Centre, two younge women with a tape recorder and Toronto 640 News badges stopped us and asked if we'd give an opinion. They then told us that City Council had just announced it had set aside a sum of money I don't recall, but in the thousands, to give out wine and cigarettes to the homeless.
"Do you mean they're specifically telling them to buy booze and cigarettes with the money?" I asked, trying to figure out if I was misconstruing their syntax.
"No," insisted the one with the tape recorder, "they're buying the wine and distributing it. The people they're talking about, are like, the really desperate addicts, the ones who'll drink, like, Lysol."
"But, have they officially said this?"
"Oh, yeah, they like, announced it at lunchtime."

Still convinced this was a misunderstanding, I was going to say something like, "Well, I don't have the full details, so I can't really comment," when Himself looked the girl with the taperecorder in the eye:
"I'm sorry, you're just not selling it."

We walked away. "Her friend couldn't keep a straight face." When we got home, I checked the local news sites. There was no mention of such a story, even on 640's own site. The closest I could find was a rant on The Toronto Sun's site about homeless shelters being too cushy and serving "gourmet" meals and wine (I'm guessing maybe the shelters had a party for people at Christmas or something and the Sun got its knickers in a twist).

I'm still not sure if the 640 girls thought they were doing a Rick Mercer-type thing, trying to get people to believe in and comment on an imaginary news story so the audience could snicker "Suckers!" or if they were even from 640 News.

There's a bad taste in my mouth.
moon_custafer: (Default)
This afternoon as we left the apartment, I went round the back to drop off some garbage bags, and noticed an eagle in one of the trees behind our building. At least I think it was an eagle: it was much too large to be just a regular hawk - until I got near it, I couldn't be sure it wasn't a human child sitting on the tree branch, except I didn't think a kid would be able to climb that high. I pointed it out to Himself and went inside for his camera (I'll post pictures later). The eagle just sat calmly on its perch, waiting for something sufficiently stupid to fly by so it could catch itself some lunch.

On the streetcar afterwards, a guy who got on at the Humber Loop had probably come from the deli counter at the big Sobey's store, since he had rather a lot of food with him including a meatball sandwich he handed to his friend as he sat down, and a container of meatballs he slurped straight from the styrofoam. "Howya doing, Sweetie," he asked me, "and how has your day been thus far?" He offered me a meatball, which I declined as politely as I could. He offered Himself a meatball, with the same reaction. He and his friend discussed "the Old Man," to whose house they were headed to drink beer and hang out. He got off in Parkdale, saying he'd be back. It was around this time I noticed the Sunday streetcar driver was singing the names of the stops.

True to his word, the Meatball Guy got back on a few stops later, having somehow gone to a bank machine to get his friend the money he owed him, made a run to a liquor store to pick up booze for the Old Man's place, and caught up with the streetcar again. He tried chatting up a different young woman, who told him she was on her way to confront her boyfriend, who'd dumped her for another girl.
"Your voice is kinda strained," he said, "you been screaming at him?"
"I've been in bed with pneumonia all week."
Meatball Guy offered to go with her and beat the guy up: "I've got a bicycle," he said, "and a chain."
"Baaaaa-thurst Streeet!" caroled the driver.

I gave my seat to an older woman, who thanked over and over again until I began to wish I hadn't. Later she gave me my seat back and sat down between Meatball Guy and his friend.
"Howya doin', Sweetie, and how's your day been thus far?" he said (I forgot to mention he'd also said this to the girl with the cheating boyfriend). The streetcar driver's singing had gone up a key. "At this rate," said Himself, "he'll be shattering the windows by the time we get to Yonge Street."

The Meatball Guy's friend asked him for a beer and he opened the case from the liquor store. He offered me a beer. He offered Himself a beer. We both said thanks, no, but thanks.
"C'mon, can't I give you anything?" he pleaded.
"You've already given me entertainment," said Himself.

We got off at Yonge Street Subway Station. The streetcar windows remained intact.
"Now I've got a craving for meatballs," Himself said.

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