It leadeth me through public transportation hell. Beside broken printers it leads me. Cold, bad weather it raineth down upon my face. It surroundeth me with annoyances. It beateth me with wind, rain, and irritating people. It ruineth my favorite underpants with menstrual bleeding, swelleth my body painfully, and squeezeth my uterus with cramps. My face breaketh out like a pizza. It setteth a giant hulking van on fire in the alley behind my house at 5:00 a.m. It causeth my cats to stage feline triathalons on my sleeping form. It draineth my bank account to a pittance. It reduceth me to tears at malfunctioning office equipment. It maketh the phone ringeth constantly with telemarketers and wrong numbers. It forceth me to work late and miss Buffy three days in a row. It alternately granteth me the sex drive of a 16-year-old-boy and cruelly removeth all desire from me, without warning or reason. It forceth me to toil for my bread when I would rather be in bed. It inspireth my roommate to create casserole dishes that make the house smell of public school lunch (and burning van). It sloweth my internet connection to a snail’s pace. Friends respondeth not to my emails, nor employers to my resumes. It keepeth me from dining on injerra and lega tibbs with Cranky tomorrow eve.
(and you left out the worst sling of all, missing out on Mid West Dope Chick, or West Mid Chick Dope or Dope West Mid Chick or… well, you get the idea).
You could hath been kicked out of Scarlett O’Hara’s “As God As My Witness I Will Never Go Thirsty Again,” Saloon. Then where wouldeth you be? Up shiteth creek.
It sendeth my grampa to go to the hospital for the 6th time in 3 weeks. It settleth a plague of coughing in my lungs.
It causeth hot yet unavailable swains to resume Pit flirtations.
It forceth me to have surreal early morning conversations such as:
“Hey, what’s that smell?”
“It’s a van. It’s in the alley. It’s on fire.”
“Hey, what’s that in the alley?”
“Someone set a van on fire.”
“Is something on fire?”
“Yes, it’s that giant van in the alley.”
It tempteth me to strip naked, smear myself with goat’s blood, and sacrifice virgins to the color laser printer if it will only PRINT ONE FUCKING #10 ENVELOPE.
It inciteth my boss to send me faxes from her hotel, then call to check if I got the fax, then email me the information that’s in the fax in case I didn’t get it.
Oh, Advil, why hast thou forsaken me? Do I not take three tablets, exceeding in number even what thou hast commanded me? And still my womb tormentest me.
“Thou preparest a maxipad before me in the presence of mine Auntie Flo: thou anointest my head with migraines; my undies runneth over. Surely bloating and cramps shall follow me all the days of my life”
Mags, I’ll tell you where the spare keys are hidden at my place if you’d like to drink down the wet bar.
Why must a clutch of sullen mushmouths always clot the entrance of the eL? As the train pulls up, in the aisle you see room for him, her, and both of those two. But no, every tinny-headphoned blank-staring bag of skin on the train has to hover elbow-to-asshole three steps from the sliding doors. I fucking hate people. I’ve resigned myself to just wading through the people pile when I board. There’s plenty of opportunity to practice the technique on weekends at the Vic, Riviera, Aragon, and sundry other night spots. You repeat as you forge ahead: “'Scuse me. Pardon me. Sorry.”
I get agitated, though. To get through the darkness, I imagine Yvonne Elliman gavotting in the sand. Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and anoint you…
Myrrh for your hot forehead, oh.
Then you’ll feel
Everything’s alright, yes, everything’s fine.
And it’s cool, and the ointment’s sweet
The people on the eL are sand in my ointment. Go ride the third rail, you gelid gobbets.
Be well, Magdalene. Good luck with your vagina and all. I am thankful you afforded me opportunity to vent.
Mags, I’m so sorry you find yourself walking through the valley of the shadow of crap.
But I’ve got just the thing for ya. Hold on one moment while I send some e-greetings to you that feature animated cats hugging dogs while dancing to a “You Light Up My Life” MIDI. A whole bunch of pop-up links come up, directing you to all sorts of inspirational sites that I’m confident will brighten your day. While you’re waiting for those to load, I’ll also forward a bunch of heartwarming emails that I have received. You’ll feel even better if you share them with everyone on your contact list. I find it always helps me to know that I’m spreading such joy to others.
No really, don’t thank me. I do it because I care.
Sorry to hear this.