In St. George station I saw a posse of 14 year old girls with dyed black hair and facial piercings and skull-patterned parkas dancing around and singing Fall Out Boy. Ahhhh
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YEA. Try when it's someone in your History of English Language class clipping their nails and letting them fly everywhere :( And the shit I see on the Go Train, fuck. Gross first-year OCAD girls with their boyfriends asking them to see if their foot fits in the plastic chip bowl they've taken to use to make the plaster cast of his foot for art, and then him stripping off shoe and sock, rolling up pants, and proclaiming, "Let's just do it here!"
Shit Erin. Shit. And then let's talk about germs. Those sleeve-sneeze ads are doing a whole lot of nothing for the people who insist on COUGHING INTO THE AIR. Hands, people, use your hands.
I was on the bus one Saturday morning, coming home from a party the night before, at the point of beyond-intoxication where the still-drunk was turning into very-hungover at which point some lovely woman decided that sitting on the TTC was the best place in which to remove her nail polish. I was so nauseus (sp?) and so close to projectile vomit that I placed myself (standing) a couple rows behind her (in case of projectile vomiting), commenting loudly on how inconsideratat an act removing one's nail polish on a city bus in the winter with no windows open is.
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And the shit I see on the Go Train, fuck. Gross first-year OCAD girls with their boyfriends asking them to see if their foot fits in the plastic chip bowl they've taken to use to make the plaster cast of his foot for art, and then him stripping off shoe and sock, rolling up pants, and proclaiming, "Let's just do it here!"
Shit Erin. Shit. And then let's talk about germs. Those sleeve-sneeze ads are doing a whole lot of nothing for the people who insist on COUGHING INTO THE AIR. Hands, people, use your hands.
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I shake my fist in memory of her.
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