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Archive for November, 2008

I’m quite irritable today.  What else is new, right?  

Today there is a better reason that just my general predisposition.  

I was out late at a fundraising event and am fully feeling the effects today. Full blown, all the way.  I’m so out of it (code for: hung the f over) that as I sat on the bus on the way to work I wondered whether or not I put socks on, and also, I wondered what exactly I was wearing.  I’m not one to go anywhere after work on a weekday, because, well, because of exactly this.  

Work is pretty much unbearable.  The only thing that is getting me through these last couple of hours is my rendition of T.G.I.F, which is I.F.F.F. (It’s finally fucking friday).  

Finally.  

It’s interesting when I’m in this kind of mood.  Either I’m more relaxed than usual and nothing can phase me or I’m super irritable and every tiny thing drives me completely insane. I’m half and half today.  

On transit, nothing phased me.  I got shoulder checked, and had my foot stomped on, and I was pretty much okay with it.  

At work, it’s a different story.  It’s entirely more painful than usual. I literally want to lob my stapler at choice people (when I’m not randomly stapling invisible documents to sound busy).  The volume decibel of everything is intolerable.  It’s next to impossible to keep my eyes open.  It’s even more impossible to not prematurely announce my secret plans* in my loudest outside voice.  

*Secret plan to be announced on here soon… very exciting, I promise.  

I fear the commute home.  

With a passion.  

I pray that I don’t clock a fellow commuter in the head if they look at me the wrong way.  Maybe it’s best if I pretend to read, sleep, or do a crossword so that I don’t become the latest story in the free transit paper. 

We’ll see how that goes.

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I have issues with personal space.  Some days I can handle it, some days, not so much. Today is one of those days.  

While I was waiting for my last bus today, in the army style line up, I noticed the woman behind me sneaking closer, baby step by baby step.  I could tell because I could see her shadow.  She was reading the paper, and at one point it grazed my hair.  There’s tons of space.

Tons.  

I thought, ‘What’s up with this chick standing right on my ass?! Goddamn, I’m really not in the mood.  I can smell her coffee breath. Gross. Did her paper just touch my hair? What the f. MOVE.’

So, I played a little game.  

I moved up.  

She moved up.  

I moved up.  

She moved up.  

I moved sideways.

She moved sort of beside me.  

I moved up.  

She sneezed in my hair.  

In.

My.

Hair.  

She didn’t even cover her mouth.

Gross. What on earth is wrong with people?  

As far as I’m aware, my hair does not resemble a box of Kleenex.  I mean, even if she didn’t have time to cover her mouth, she could have at least turned her head slightly so her bodily fluids landed on the pavement rather than in my hair.  

Imagine the consideration.  I made sure to shoot her dirty looks and sat far from her.  I didn’t have the caffeine intake or patience to say anything, and even if I did, it wouldn’t have done any good really.

So, I scored a sweet bus seat, and an older woman plopped down beside me.  I say, ‘plopped’ because she entered the seat blindly, with the hopes of landing in her spot, but instead her butt landed on part of my leg.  After she shimmied over, she continued to check her watch 7 times.  

I counted.  

The reason I noticed was because every time she checked, she took off her glove and elbowed me in the side.  

Every time.  

Glove On. Glove Off. Glove On. Glove Off. Glove On. Glove Off.  

I was sitting beside the wall, so there was no where for me to move.  I was literally sitting sort of sideways and pressed up against the window, with the hopes her poking would stop.  Nah.

Whenever I have days like this, I think of that Seinfeld episode when Elaine gets stuck on the subway as she is on her way to a wedding.  She totally freaks out – whether it’s a good thing or not, I’m exactly the same. Sometimes I just want to scream at the top of my lungs and literally knock some sense into my fellow transit commuters.  

Instead, for now, I suppose I will settle for overly obvious eye rolls, shoulder checks, and the occasional swift tackle.  

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