shaking off last night's aperitif (or two) was simplicity itself.
you see, the bastard has a secrete formula for keeping the hangover at bay.
funny thing is, i was going over this with the accountant on saturday night.
i take 3000 mg of vitamin c, a vitamin b12 pill and wash it down with one of those booster drinks from trader joes. oh yeah and i drink a fuck ton of water.
anyway, i'm walking to the train this morning and the bastard has gotten accustomed to the rubes who are in a hurry. the hood has taken measures to slow these goofballs down in the form of stops signs that they ignore so that they can floor it to beat the traffic lights that the town installed to slow drivers down.
so it's a nonstop cavalcade of cocksuckery walking around as some folks are in a rush to get to their teaching jobs (how do i call that one? A: four schools within a mile of my front door and B: have you seen what teachers drive these days?), or parents in a rush to get their precious cargo to school and so they can get to their jobs, not to mention, people that actually work in the neighborhood or are using the neighborhood as a shortcut to stay off of main streets.
anyway, as i crossed a street en route (it doesn't really matter where but, it was in the gardens), i hear the tell tale creaking of tires followed by acceleration, followed by a guy on a bicycle yelling,
"hey you're driving too fahst" (he had a british accent).
and it reminded me of how grandpa used to stand out on his dock getting ready to go out on the water and as a boat would rip by, he would blow a whistle, wave his hands and yell,
i had to wonder, with this in mind, is this where i'm headed. it doesn't help that i get really indignant about stuff. oh well, i best invest in a big ass whistle.