Ad-derall: The 'Ultimate Natural' B1 Patch

Ad-deral is a column in which we rant and riff on the ridiculous ads we're subjected to while trapped on the subway.  From the borderline racist local businesses (1-800-MARGARITA Divorce Attorneys) to the condescending national brands that pretend to know what it's like to ride the goddamned F train every day (Snickers, Delta), we'll tackle them all with the same smug outlook that has made us totally (not) famous.

Okay, so I wasn't able to get a very good photo on the F train since it was a banner ad and I was concentrating on holding on for dear life as we were hurtling through the depths of Brooklyn at about 700mph [ed. note: 700MPH! On the F!? I can run faster than that fucker...], BUT, check this bullshit out: Introducing the B1 Patch! 

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'No Sleep Till Brooklyn?'

Is this woman suffering from an overdose of Nyquil? Taking a nap after a hard night of partying? Do I wake her lazy ass up?  What if she ends up in midtown...or even worse Queens?

It reminded me of the time I fell asleep on the 1 train going back to Prospect Heights.

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Disturbing Subway Reading Material: Exhibit A

In case you are wondering, the Knives 2010 catalog this dude was "reading" is about 400 pages long. It contains all sorts of glossy pictures of every different type of knife, in every color, of every size. This thing had motherfucking hunting knives with pink paisley handles....kvives with mascots from college universities--any knife you could ever dream about, was in the pages of this very, very disturbing, I do not want to see the dude standing right the fuck next to me on a crowded Q train reading catalog.

And this dude was turning the pages of this thing so lustily, it may as well have been a goddamned Playboy magazine.

Sure he could have been a hunter...or a cop...but also he could have been a FUCKING SERIAL KILLER.

Save that shit for private time, ppl.

Who Gives A Shit: Help Me, Help You

Because I have an eighteen-stop completely local commute from South Slope to my nine to five in the mornings, I wake up like, twenty minutes before I have to leave, drag my ass up to the F train in a half-conscious stupor (but immaculately put together, of course), and then spend the next forty-five minutes staring into space (which explains why I’ve been on page four of Crime and Punishment for the last two weeks).

Staring into space often turns into me inventorying everything that everyone is reading, thus assuming I know everything about their lives solely based on their book selection.  Yes, I assume everyone with a Kindle is reading erotica.  Especially you.

But over the last week, I’ve noticed a disproportionate number of self-help books, including shit like How To Find Your Inner Goddess, How To Make Money With Your Ass Still on the Couch, You Will Lose Weight Just By Reading This, etc. 

I want my trashy romance novel readers back…so I can read over their shoulders.  I’ve already found my inner goddess, dammit.

Anyone else notice this self-help phenomenon recently? [ed note: And follow-up: do you think any of that shit actually work?]

BREAKING: ATLANTIC TERMINAL SOMEHOW GETS *EVEN* UGLIER

image via Gothamist

As we all know, everything at Atlantic Terminal is totally fucked up and sucky (except for the fact that there are 9,000 subway lines there and the LIRR).

Anyway.

It's no surprise, that literally decades after they began the work, the new LIRR terminal just opened up--and despite the fact that its kind of nice-ish inside, outside its ugly as fuck. Why you ask?

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