Aw man! The F train comes through in the clutch with yet another chunk of comedic gold!

The date, 3/10/09. The time was approximately 9:15pm and the train pulled up to the Roosevelt Island stop and on RIDES this bum directly onto the train. Now, normally people who have a bicycle get off and walk the bike onto the train, not this man! Bum Armstrong opted to pedal his way onto the train car, hilare!

[As soon as I saw that shite, I knew this could only get better]

In efforts of chaining his bike to the railing he was trying to swing this heavy bike chain around the railing but just continually kept throwing it straight ahead, not the correct around the railing motion he was looking for — wasted! After getting help throwing the blasted chain, he takes a seat and literally RIPS into this plastic container. I heard this thing open OVER my music, which was blaring (as always). I look over, I see about three chips TOPS in this carton. Pmo! All that noise for nothing.

[I then thought to self, "self, this guy is abso ridic, let's not pay him any mind." Then I heard self say, "you liar, clearly youre going to pay keen attention in order to accurately post yesterday evening's moments of hilarity on AbsoHilare.com." Damn you self, always so wise.]

While zoning out to some tunes (Wale’s Mixtape About Nothing…still) I realize there is somewhat of a miniature subway-stampede going on. All the people from Bum Armstrong’s side of the train flee to the other side in haste as if someone released a deadly airborne virus.  So I’m like what the Weezy F is going on here…I take a look and this man is smoking a cigarette–on the train! Too bad he cursed everyone as they were running away, single-handedly redefining reckless abandon.

*dead.

(*brought back to life; boss.)

I couldn’t believe it, my friend and I blurted out in blatant laughter because it was just so wild. I’ve NEVER seen anyone pull that shit before, though I did see this one dude roll a joint (literally, a joint) on the 7 train, yeah. Luckily our stop wasn’t too far off so we endured the nicotine tainted air for a few minutes (while cracking up!) then went about our way.

AND just for the bluff callers who may say, “Oh Musin, no effin way bro!” I utilized my paparazzi abilities to snag the most solid of images. Without further adieu, Bum Armstrong.

LONG LIVE AH!