...on handbags

this morning...

the weather has moved on but, the humidity has decided to stick around for now.

the bastard is always delighted when a weather system can stick around in the capacity to make him sweat alot but not enough to keep all those dicks on the bar's back porch indoors.

magical...

but i digress...

barely made it onto the 7 when i crash straight into faux pas number 537 on the subway...

step into the car

followed by faux pas number 63...

not stowing your fucking luggage...

now the bastard isn't a cold unfeeling creature...

no wait...

he is...

but he understands the value of a good louis vuitton shopping tote, even it it is a knock, he understands it...

and he understands the value of a longchamp tote of equal or greater size but one should stow them  properly. they are bags, not frikkin people bumpers.

and why the hell do you need two enormous overpriced totes anyway?

are you going away on a thursday for a long weekend of jackassery?

but nonetheless, there i was with the two designer duffel bags and my umbrella...

propping it up...

and she is not happy...

but i remembered tell chicago jerkface my musings about people and polite society from a while back and decide that this is the course of action to take.

next leg...

6 train...

new bag in my back...

new course of action...

leaning.

i've decided that you can't always fight the good fight about this sort of thing so one can go the other route and use a bag as a piece of furniture.

more comfortable that way. at least for me it is.

oh look...

it's started raining again. perhaps it'll last long enough to keep my evening quiet.

but i don't buy it.

you see what i did there didn't you?

rhyming...

look that shit up jerk.

—the bastard

batting a thousand...

...never get into fights in your neighborhood. it looks bad in front of the neighbors

—the bastard

the bastard is batting a thousand this week with train travel

monday: fracas with frenchie over blocking the door

tuesday: i end up having a sit in on some german tourists backpack  because he doesn't understand the take your frikkin bag off your back on a crowded subway train rule

wednesday: a very fat gentleman is blocking the door and isn't getting off of the train but decides to move to let people off. unfortunately he merely rotates 180 degrees in place actually making no room for passengers to get on or off the train thus prompting myself and sir edmund hillary to scale him to escape the 6 train

this morning: platform is crowded and as the 7 pulls in i start to filter in along with the natural order of things when people filter onto a crowded subway train in which people all block the door because their all getting off at grand central.

"ehhh cues you, yeh ehh cuse you"

i pay no mind to this whatnot as i'm in the flow of people. i'm sure i could stop and completely wreck the natural order of things but i keep going until a feel something crashing into the backs of my legs.

"ehhh cues you, yeh ehh cuse you"

not knowing what's scraping my leg, i foot sweep back to hit stroller wheels and this well spoken invidual who no doubt tok a stroll down my way from the queensbridge houses yells,

"hey wash out you", revealing that this small person was literally trying to shove her stroller up my ass along with her kid in it, on a crowded train platform.

who does that?

i know everyone wants to get where they're going buy you're putting your kid in danger by attacking people with the very vehicle you are supposed to be using to protect your child.

who does that?

so, ready to go, she's getting loud, perhaps figuring that fatty mcwhiteboy will just be sheepish and step on the train and she can feel she's gotten her two cents in

"stop shoving your babycarriage into my legs!", i boom, "what's wrong with you?"

and i step into the middle of the car where there's plenty of room. and there would have been plenty for all if people would just step into the car.

friday: i think i'm gonna stay in bed and hide from the subway. or perhaps take the ferry. nothing could happen to me there could it?

—the bastard

rough night, yo!

you ever have one of those commutes?

you know the ones where you leave work late because shit totally blew up in your face…

and your washing egg off of it…

only to find that the seven train isn't running…

so you take the 6…

to the E…

to the G…

and them limp home in time to see that the seven train is running again?

yeah me too.

I made a manhattan and got a double cheese burger with bacon to make up for the heavens fucking me over for the last 48 hours.

what's your plan for cosmic bullshit?

—the bastard