...or how the rest of the day picks up the slack for your good morning
holy frikkin hannah boys and girls, the afternoon is the bitch goddess to the morning's sweetness. good morning considering the rain, lucky escape 10 minutes before the sky opens up and rain holy hell on new york and someone put the milk in. okay now that we're on the same page, the day rolls on and the bastard is going batso. yes the bastard knows enough italian to declare himself crazy. i know enough german to well, you get the picture. the work is going well enough but, after 3 or 4 days of rain, it gets to you. can't stand it and the coffee wasn't helping. so upon discussion with the nice lady i hit the bricks but the car is on the wrong end of queens.
so i head downtown towards the m train (ergo yesterday's train pix). by the time i get down there, i find that there is a power outage on the williamsburg bridge so i have to head back uptown. now in true MTA fashion, a fellow commuter told me about this, not an announcer. jerks. i go all the way back uptown to take the old school route to the house. normalcy, i can even get unwound. i get to the hood and it's pissing out. i call the nice lady and meet her at the boy's school and i tuck in for the evening. now the bastard isn't one to welcome calamity but after having it so good this morning, it's nice to see the afternoon pick up the slack. now eat your dinner, shiteyes
—the bastard
1 comment:
it's more like i'm addressing the collective
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