Morning Commute

What the fuck is going on this morning??? Did every stock-slinging asshole on Wall Street and every fucking secretary decide to come in early today? Was there a run on mints and small chocolates that all these bitches need to replenish their supply before the bossman comes in? Is that what’s going on here? I’m pretty sure when you wear sneakers and jeans to your place of business in the Wall Street area that you don’t need to fucking be on a bus at 7:20, a.m. taking up space and breathing my precious oxygen!
I wake up at 6:45 so I can beat everyone downtown…and because I like being in my office early; I’m masochistic like that! But seriously, couldn’t some of these assholes eat a second piece of toast or play with Agnes and Reed a little while longer? Couldn’t they grab a later bus? I don’t really want to sit next to some fucker who has an aversion to creating space between strangers. Hey, see that next to you? That’s empty space, why don’t you sit in it so you can stop rubbing your fucking knee against my leg…I didn’t realise (sic.) we were filming an episode of “Gays on a Bus,” get the fuck away from me.
What the hell is that smell? It smells like old lady? Did granny over there remember to take the mothballs out of her giant underpants? Has she washed those hospital issue stockings, ones whiter than a Mormon in Vancouver, since the Truman administration? Yeah, didn’t think so.
Oh Jesus, you know there’s a problem when you’re secretly wishing your bus will plow into the East River; or worse wishing you were already in your office…