I am an asshole...

To everyone who got off the Glenmont bound Red line train at roughly 9:00am at Union Station... apparently we are all assholes. At least according the the lady who was just entering the metro as the train was leaving Union Station and decided to walk through the throngs of us who had just gotten off the train, instead of taking the easy route around us. Yes, apparently we are assholes. I just thought you'd like to know. Maybe put it on your resumé... or buy a shirt that says "I am an asshole!"

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What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage
By AMY SUTHERLAND
Published: June 25, 2006

…

So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.

…

Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.

I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband…

Somewhat old, but well worth the read, and very, very true:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/25/fashion/25love.html