Yesterday, I was on the train. Between gallery and branch somewhere. I was sitting cloistered in a corner of the train, with a glass wall in front of me.
The train hit L'enfant, and it was instantly reminesent of a boston bar during the series. I already had a seat, and the rather odoriforous woman sitting next to me left, so i moved to the wall. Beautiful. the wall, with a foot rest while the rest of these chumps smell each other's armpits. I loathe armpits of strangers.
I sat straight and properly, while I watched no one sit next to me. The masses were prefering to whiff armpits than to sit next to me?!? wow. That is astounding. Its because I'm a little white girl right? Riiiiiiighhhhht.
I don't smell. I won't bother you. Most likely I won't even touch nor look at you. I'm nearing invisible im so clear, so why not escape the armpits and relax next to me? God. I'm not going to get you arrested or something.
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2 comments:
I think it's probably that dirty, filthy, grime encrusted hippy. If you are spending time near him, patchouli oil combined with micro-fibers from some dirty drug rug he probably wears is making a stink bridge between him and you.
Get a draft card and rub your clothing with it. It's the only solution.
ohhh a draft card. ... didn't think of that!!!! I'll go find one.
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