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I look up at he clock.It's one fucking AM. Eight hours must have elapsed since I sat down to write the novel. Time flies when you are having fun, and zooms when you are engrossed in what you love to do the most. I looked up and then I remembered that I didn't blog for a few days. What should I talk about today? Well, I want to crank first about the PA system in the New York City Subways.
I had to go uptown to public assistance because first there was a note under my door asking me for a budget letter from PA, and then a few days later, they were asking for rent. So you know what that means. I got my ass up and got on the subway uptown to Public Assistance. Which is no difficult task. All one has to do is take a fucking book, and hitch the long subway ride up there.
So there I am, riding the subway, wearing my headsets and reading my book, and in the middle of my ride, I hear on the PA system: "Due to construction on the train line this train will only be making..." and then the conductor puts marbles in his mouth and the rest is garbled. Then, "...get off at...mumble, mumble, mumble...and go to...mumble...." What the fuck? I listen harder when he says: "To repeat..." then mumbling. So I know it's going to be a pain in the fucking ass getting up to my stop. I go back to my book and get ready to go with the flow.
To my fucking surprise, the train stops at my station with no problems, and then moves on. Super. I get off and head to Public Assistance, where I'm the first one in the door, first one on the line, first one in the waiting room, first one called, and first one out of there with my budget letter. In and out like a duck fucking.
Now, I had to deal with the madness of returning back down to where I live on 96th street. No doubt the problems with the train line was not going from South to North, but from North to South. Whoopee. I wonder what time I will get back home. I get to the token clerk at the station and ask how to get to 96th street with all of the construction going on. He says to take the train. A lotta fucking help that was.
So I hop the train back down, put on my headsets and read my book and before I know it, I'm at the 96th street station. No fuss, no muss, nothing. I get out and walk over to my apartment building, scan the budget letter for posterity, and then give it to them downstairs.
Then I head out to the check cashing place to put money on my credit card. You see, I don't really have a credit card, I have a card where you put money on it and then you can use it like a credit card. It costs money to do so, but the neat thing is, is that I can shop on the Internet and have my shit sent to me. I love shopping online. It's the only way to go for me nowadays since I avoid going out. Well, here's my problem....
I've been nice to the punk assed fuck behind the glass there all the time. When I come in, I used to say hello and goodbye and thank you. Yet, for some reason this bitch gives me the sourpus and is cranky as all Hell when he sees me. Now I just tell the fool to put money on my card and nothing else. Get busy bitch. I don't even talk to him. I give him sign language since he's on the other side of the glass. I give him the two, ten finger hand signal for twenty dollars on my card and then slide the cash under the glass. Fuck you dood.
It's not that I'm a bad guy....it's just that idiots gravitate to me. What can I say?
Don't get on the train and don't put money on your credit card?
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-in-papers-and-tv-news.html
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