ring the alarm

I shouldn’t be sitting like this. I’m wearing a skirt. But I honestly don’t care. It’s long and I’ve got on so many leggings I could supply The Gap for a year.

This subway car wreaks. It smells like shit.

Literally. Like someone squatted and took a huge dump right in front of my face. Except I suspect the culprit is sitting directly in front of me.

Stuffing her face with some pastry sticking out of a “Golden Krust” wrapper. It says “spicy beef”. Ew. I don’t even want to know what kind of beef they’re over there spicing at “golden–” whatever.


I mean can you imagine the arteries being clogged by that trans fat cholesterol lard dripping treat.

Icck. Note to self. Stop eating. The world has gone mad.


I need to stop judging.

“You are what you eat.”

Then why haven’t I turned into a French fry yet?

“Beats me.”

Omg! I’m gonna be late for my meeting. Why oh why can I never get up when my alarm goes off. I really shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night.

I mean…


Just 10 min late or so. Not soooo incredibly bad.


Shame on me.

Then after that I need to hightail it to another meeting then back home to get some edits and research done. It’s a workday and I shall behave as such.

“it’s a workday and I shall behave as such.”

Are you mocking me? That’s fresh.

My own brain thinks I’m a piece of work.


I publically talk to my own brain. What does that say?



If you wanna put me in a straight jacket, go right ahead.

It’ll be like Christmas.


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