One morning last week I was on my normal commute to work (at like 9:30am, because my office is super understanding of my morning affliction (aka grumpiness and general hatred)) and was zoned out in an angry way as per usual.
I happened to glance up as two women boarded the train. The shorter, stockier, gingerier of the two caught my eye. She's the kind of woman who one might easily mistake for a ginger boy except that I I seemed to know her, and I knew she was a woman. As I stared, trying to figure out if I should greet her or not because even though I couldn't place her, I definitely knew this woman, her friend said something in an eerily familiar voice. I turned. It was Miranda from Sex and the City (making the ginger woman her wife, not a distant acquaintance of mine).
The ladies shared a subway pole with me. I thought about practicing my flirting skills (sliding my hand subtly down the pole, etc), but decided it might not have been the safest environment.
I switched trains as usual, and in trying to stop the train doors from closing on me, managed to (somewhat violently) stab a middle-aged crazed-scientist-looking man directly in the butt with my ladybug umbrella.
Surprisingly, he was quite pissed.
I had to make a pit stop at Staples, where I complained bitterly to the homeless guy parked outside about the Copy Center door being locked. "Just go to the other door," he told me. Some people just don't understand.
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