Resting Rage Face

I’ve been ragey as fuck all week because of the way mediocre white dudes get ahead while the women around them do the same work with more competence and grace – both in my life, and also in the collective life of our country in terms of our incoming executive branch.

Also because I have spent an inordinate amount of time this weird-weather-week with the exclamation, “Where the motherfuck is the C train?” flooding my brain as multiple E trains (which don’t even go to Brooklyn; they literally stop at the World Trade Center; why do they even run downtown in the evening, god fucking dammit) pass and A trains smugly enter and exit the station, half full.

When one little thing (nothing big, just the crushing weight of the patriarchy over all of us) is irking me, everything else seems so much more annoying. Some dude was spreading his legs like he was fucking crowning on the crowded-ass train this morning and I wanted to javelin my knitting needle straight into his crotch. Too violent? I think the real tragedy in that hypothetical scenario is potentially losing my knitting needle to some shithead’s crotch.

200_s

To temper my impending insanity I’m doing the 31-day Yoga Revolution with Adriene, the new queen goddess of my heart. She is everything. Yoga is…something, I guess. I can finally touch my toes, and it’s like exercising, except you mostly get to sit during it. So I can get down with that. Now I just need to get a yoga mat instead of using my lambskin rug like a fucking Neanderthal.

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