The Maestro Car

This morning: took the bus downtown, walked to work from there. On the way: Burlington the Busy Street. Me? I pushed the walk button, and waited for the lights to change.
Change they did! Took a little while, but it was well worth the wait. Why I declare, there must have been at least 15-20 people their cars, bunched up at the stoplight, all of them waiting for little old me! No other pedestrians around, no other cars competing for right of way, just a bunch of idling automobiles, and ME — crossing the street nice and leisurely-like (in the 15 seconds or whatever Burlington gives you). What a head trip! All those folks, mildly inconvenienced purely for my benefit. Seconds of their lives they’ll never get back. Good times.
Sorry to anybody who was in a legitimate hurry, I hope you didn’t get in dutch. Life’s a cruel maestro sometimes.



how do you single-handedly “mind the store” + “have to poop” simultaneously??? cannot be dunn!


Woaps! Another turd fell out! Just more carnage from my attempts to be be procreativing, cha! In a softer world this might sound almost sort-of-Ok/pretty in parts, but I had to get it recorded AND mixed ANANAD mastered allin uh hour buffo my buss come!!! I diddit and so it sounds like a assshole”s beast!!!!At LEAStt!!!




Waiting for the bus!: This morning!:

(Bus, 5 minutes late.)
(Driver, older woman I’ve never seen before.)

DRIVER: Hurry up. Hi. Do you need a transfer?
DRIVER: Thank you.

And, scene!

And you’re like, “What part of that story needed telling, duder?”
And I’m like, “What part of that even constitutes a story, am I right?”

Hey, speaking of which! Have you ever noticed: ladies don’t even hardly scratch themselves in public, but dudes do it all the time! What’s up with that?! I mean, I know they even sell a special anti-itch paste for ladies to use, right? I’ve seen the commercial! So clearly the itching’s there, but nobody’s scratching it! Right? I mean, am I right? A dude man clenches his fingers tight round his scrote-folds to squelch those firey bites of itchness at a moment’s notice! And they don’t even make a cream or gel for a itchy ball very much! Yet only once in my whole lives do I remember hearing a woman friend complaining about being pained by an overly itchy crotch, and even then there were no public displays of groin scratchery. Do women folk just have that much more self-restraint? You know? Am I right? Come on? Hey! Who? I mean, right? Wha’s a d

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