My MBTA arch nemesis is the E HEATH STREET.

You can kiss my ass you worthless cheat of a green line.

So here’s why…

At 10:30pm after psych lecture, when I’m beleaguered from an Arabic man talking at an usual volume (they always seem to yell no matter the conversation) about dendritic cells, I’m pretty eager to get home. Anyhoot, I’ve made a game of guessing (hoping) which train is coming by the time they’re parked at Arlington since you can see it if you look down the tunnel. I can easily make out the C and D trains because they have one line of text in the display…but then there’s that filthy fucking E train that gets me every time I think my smelly chariot is arriving to whisk me home.

HEATH STREET
BOSTON COLLEGE

yes? no? whatever they look same to me at a distance.

Call me crazy, whatever, but it’s horrendous! Standing in stinky ass copley square station that late having to people watch the most hideous grab bag of scags and waitstaff/valets going home from their sad existences that late.

Moving on – ON THE SAME NIGHT I was nearly run over by a drunk guy on a bike on the BU bridge, the fucking guy clips me with his tire before swerving into oncoming traffic. I can only assume he was an MIT student as he wasn’t wearing a helmet and I’m pretty sure he planned on driving into Magazine Park for the purposes of drowning himself in the Charles.

Loves it.

Aside my neuroses things remain pretty typical, I might take up excercising again (might) and I quit smoking next Monday or at least stop buying cigarettes. Also, I’m not going to write what you’re all wanting me to write about because I have things to figure out.

SO!

xo

i’m angry.

uhhh, I want to write an update but I’ve been:  a) drunk all week b) busy as hell or c) never home

 d) all of the above is the correct answer.

I miss the boys.

I’ve been spending my home time with Jonah who has been fabulous, I do love that boy.

TIM! moves in soon and it’s going to be great, ding dong the slob is dead and who better to replace him than a home improving, funny, culinary skilled boy?

fuckin no one!

I like spaces between lines, it makes things more profound.

african bush

see? 

err….I need bed.