sweetdeens

When I first saw the teaser for this article, I thought it was a faux-homage (fauxmage? I want to start an urban dictionary, so I can finally coin “mank” instead of using the cumbersome “man tank.” It would be SUCH a timesaver) to the best damn chimp impersonator this side of the Mason-Dixon line. A small part of me (I won’t say which) thought it might be an article about the members of Weezer packing away their hipster glasses and disappearing from the airwaves forever, until the only indication they ever existed is from the shoddy cover band who plays “Island in the Sun” for the Sandals Jamaica commercial or whatev. But then I realized I actually like Weezer, and I listen to “Pinkerton” weekly, so I started hoping for the former.

I clicked on the link, and WHAT THE HELL? They’re taking away my W train? That’s what “Good-bye W” means? (I won’t even get into why they “favour” the Brit spelling of “good-bye”). Why, God, WHY?! That’s one of my top two fav trains. It comes like every two minutes, I swear. It’s INCREDIBLE. It comes so often that I never have to wait, like, ever. There was ONE instance in the Summer when a passenger had an accident at 59th street, so there was no downtown service and I had to walk to the 6. And, sure, I was annoyed at first that I had to miss hip hop, but I got over myself. Why is the MTA getting over my W? It did nothing but reward us with years of constant coming.

This is unspeakable.