Tuesday Bluesday

This morning the train was super delayed, which New York does just for funzies sometimes, so the train was packed to the point of no one needing to hold on because everyone’s being held up by the people around them. Like a trust exercise where you don’t know anyone and someone might squeeze your butt and/or stab you. The woman facing me clearly had a cold and I was like, “Ugh this lady is going to give me a cold. But at least she’s not a creepy guy.”

I would rather get sick for a week from some lady’s nasty ass cold than be smooshed up against a creepy dude for half an hour. That’s how gross it is to be creeped on, y’all! Take it fucking seriously when women talk about this, because we aren’t complaining about nothing (although I do complain about nothing often, as you may have noticed).

It seemed particularly on the nose this morning when I was listening to 2 Dope Queens, which is normally empowering AF, and this dude starts talking about how this summer he’s vowing to stop “Looking at ass.” As in, he’s going to stop turning around and staring at women’s asses as they walk by, which was going to be really difficult for him. Why is it so hard for you to not be a walking garbage dumpster? Jesus Christ. Am I the only one that really never needs to hear a straight dude talk about women again? I’m going to have to watch like five episodes of The Great British Bake-Off to get over this one.

On my way home from choir, like 9:30 PM, the dude sitting next to me on the train was eating a piece of pizza and fries. Not even out of a box, it was on a paper plate. First of all, who the fuck eats fries with pizza. Second of all, it’s too fucking early for you to be drunkenly eating pizza on the train right now. I fantasized about smacking it up out of his hands so that the pizza would fly off the plate and land neatly (face-down, obviously) onto his stupid blonde buzzcut and drip onto his dumb-ass khakis. Who the fuck wears khakis anymore?

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