
If I can see your "gusset" thigh line, it means the skirt is too short. Just sayin'
But you do have nice legs. Oh, and I like your boots.

Parking citations issued at Bramalea Station yesterday. I was waiting for the bus and noticed a large number of Park How I Want To’s blocking aisles. There was a PHIWT at the end of each row (both ends), and even in the hashed “no parking in this triangular shape here” areas.
I snapped this photo by the bus shelters, waiting for my bus to arrive. Thought it was sweet justice. I drew arrows to the tickets in case they are hard to see.
*Note. My replies are in green.
Via Facebook
Via a Facebook friend
Only downtown commuters would really appreciate this, even though it’s unrelated to transit.
Why do people who arrive last to wait for an elevator feel that they should be allowed to be the first to board?
I was just downstairs at my office building waiting for an elevator with about 15 other people, and this woman came around the corner just as the elevator arrived, never broke stride, and cut in front of about 4 other people who were about to get on the elevator and were CLEARLY closer to the open doors than she was.
I had yet to make a move towards the elevator, but it was obvious to me anyway that she should not be shoving her way to the front of the line. In fact, she should have waited for the next elevator. You could play the chivalry card...but there were about 8 other women whom this broad also deemed herself more important than.



Catching the train at Bramalea leaves me with very few “parking lot Olympic” or similar stories which would otherwise be available from waiting for a train to depart. I do take the 7:38 which starts at Bramalea, but where I get on the train, my view does not afford me prime real estate to see late commuters running the naked mile. I have seen several 6pm sprints which were quite memorable, mind you. My best “morning” story was when a girl (might have been 21 or 22 yrs old) had a seizure at the exact moment the train started dinging the “here I come!” warning bell. I’m talking she went from vertical, to horizontal taser-shakes inside of 0.5 seconds. Two good Samaritans were trying to help her, looking for a medic alert bracelet, etc. Someone jumped on the first available coach and pressed the alarm strip. Fortunately, the Go-stapo were checking fares and abandoned that endeavour to tend to the poor girl. I say fortunately, because I assume they have some sort of first-aid/CPR training. We then had to wait for the ambulance, which I found odd considering the girl wasn’t on the train (she was on the platform). Of course, the paramedics went to the wrong parking lot so we had to wait for them to drive all the way around to the other lot. This whole episode resulted in the train being delayed by 60 minutes. For something that happened on the platform. I can only assume she was all right.
I was late and running across the tundra that is the Whitby south lot, before the parking garage was built. All of a sudden my bra strap gave out and I had the one boob bounce and to my horror, the one boob slap sound effect (it was summer, I was in a tank top). So I clamped my hand to my breast and kept on running. I must have looked like I was having a heart attack because I held my boob the whole time I was on the train. Two people asked me if I was all right. Worst morning ever.
You know how people run from the trains especially at Oshawa to make a mad dash for their cars to be the first out of the lot? This guy was booking it and he didn't realize or paid attention to the fact that construction gates had been put at the end of the Oshawa platform and he ran right into one only to be bounced back and thrown flat on his ass. His glasses and laptop bag went flying. It didn't help that other people were running and this one dude actually hurdled over the guy instead of stopping and offering to help. I never did find the guy's glasses but he was happy his macbook was okay. People are f*cking insane!!!
I once vaulted over a Vespa that I didn't see parked as I rounded a corner of a car while running for the train at Pickering one morning. I landed hard on my knees and scraped my knees and ripped my pants. I don't run for trains anymore. People who do are just asking for trouble.
Years ago I watched this guy run like hell for the train at Langstaff along what was a rural road in Thornhill before the 407. He hit a pot hole and went down like a pile of bricks and was nearly run over by a dumptruck. A whole bunch of us watched this unfold from the train and we actually did stand up collectively to see if we could see him get up. Eventually someone left the train and ran over to see if he was okay. Both those people missed the train.

We got all caught up and she's now working downtown again, obviously.
As we're talking, she suddenly switches gears, slaps my arm and mentions this GO train "weblog" a co-worker told her about and asks if I'd seen it. I decided to play dumb. So she whips out her iPhone and shows it to me. First, she explains how the lady who owns it changes the graphic at the top from time to time and then tells me, and tries to find, her favourite stories.
She's on a roll now and suddenly bursts out with, "Oh my God, you have to tell this blogger about the lady we saw that one morning. The one you said was pulling a Ben Johnson through the parking lot."
I'd completely forgotten about that. She has me pull out my BlackBerry and tells me to email the story. RIGHT NOW. So I write an email to myself. Seriously. She was leaning into me as I was typing.
It was Spring. I was sitting on the second coach from the engine, lower level, opposite of the woman forcing me to email this story, to myself.
I was staring out the window, in the direction of the parking lot, when all of a sudden I spot this woman, in heels and wearing a red trench coat, flying down the main roadway that separates the parking lots at Oshawa. She had at least two purses bouncing against her rib cage and had her arms pumping hard. In one hand, she was holding one of those old, kettle-bell shaped Tim Horton's coffee mugs which she swung with each arm pump. She was running so fast her heels weren't touching the ground. She's running full-tilt on the balls of her feet. Girlfriend had to catch the 755 (now the 753) something fierce.
It was so riveting a scene that all that was missing is the time-counter, ticket-tape graphic shown at the bottom of the t.v. screen when the Olympics are on.
For reasons only she knows, and with one minute left to departure, she veers towards the bus loop. I was almost certain she was going to pull a Bionic Woman and vault herself onto the bus shelter, and then Super Mario it onto the train, making sure to fist-pump the floating box with a question mark on it, gain five minutes as her reward, and then jump to the platform where she would vault herself through an open door of a coach.
She loses her footing, stumbles, regains her balance but loses her grip on her coffee mug. Her mug goes flying and implodes against the windshield of an idling GO bus, scaring the shit out of the driver. Coffee and plastic pieces fly everywhere. The woman stops and throws her bags to the ground and starts gathering what's left off her mug.
I didn't realize I had spoken aloud at that point. Apparently I stood up, too. "Forget the mug, lady!" I yelled (as if she could hear me). "Run! Keep running ... !" This girl was either her high school track star or she'd made running for the train a lifelong hobby. This girl was fast. Not even to this day, have I seen anyone match her stride for stride when hauling ass for a platform.
I can't remember if I was that engrossed in what I was witnessing that I actually stood and started cheering her on, but according to my 2008 train buddy, I did. She started to look out the window with me and I quickly explained what happened. By now, the doors of the train had closed and the train began its slow pull-away from the station. I'll never forget the look at that woman's face. It was pure dejection. All that effort only to be taken out by a coffee mug.
Anyhow, it was that incident that got myself and Michelle talking. Michelle, I am the Crazy Train lady.
Hello.
Oven mitts to cover the stirrups.
You can also claim the cost of shorter duration passes if:I'm listening to her as we walked up Bay Street this morning and I'm thinking, as she's talking, how in the hell is a Presto card any different because there's no unlimited travel? Unlike a monthly pass where one whose pass is zoned for Oshawa to Union could ride back and forth between the two stations several times in one day if needed, us Presto people have to tap each time, however, one could then ride the last week of a month for zero fare as the discounts would have been exhausted ... but it's not "unlimited". It becomes unlimited within the zone once the discount is exhausted. And to exhaust the discount, you have to do what?
- each pass entitles you to unlimited travel for an uninterrupted period of at least 5 days; and
- you purchase enough of these passes so that you are entitled to unlimited travel for at least 20 days in any 28-day period.
Electronic payment cards if:I have a few months this year where I did interrupt 32 one-way trips by taking vacation days. Actually more than a few... why? Because I don't work weekends. So, every five days which equals 10 one-way trips, I create an "interruption". So following Revenue Canada's logic, I won't be able to claim for:
- the card is used to make at least 32 one-way trips during an uninterrupted period not exceeding 31 days; and
- the card is issued by a public transit authority that records and provides a receipt for the cost and usage of the card.



