~Cranky~

Ever just want to punch a bitch in the face or toss a hot beverage in their direction?
I haven't had a good nights sleep in DAYS!

I'm cranky and my eyes are barely open as I wait for the train, tea in hand, heels in bag.
The train approaches and everyone inches toward the edge of the platform. The race for seats will start as soon as the doors open.
I am directly in front of the train door. I step aside to let the passengers off and to allow the pregnant woman to go ahead of me. 
I feel a slight push that becomes increasingly more aggressive. 
Is this person blind therefore they cannot see the people exiting the train? 
This MUST be the answer I think as I turn to look behind me, in disbelief. 
It's a perfectly healthy young woman who has the nerve to roll her eyes at me for not pushing past the people to get onto the train. I swing my huge bag over my shoulder in hopes that it slaps the shit out of her. 
She's still pushing me as I begin to step onto the train. 
I want to snatch her by her unnatural blonde/orange hair and kick her in the face. Instead I simply block her so she cannot sit before the pregnant girl, or me for that matter.
I settle into my seat and look up to see her giving me the stare of death.
I laugh at her and settle in for my nap.
Bitch.

*ding dong*
Thank you for riding the MTA

~Hood Booger family Edition~

I hate hoodboogers. I hate the way they smell. I hate the way they speak. I hate that they procreate and bring children into the world. I hate their dusty lil, disrespectful kids. *rolls eyes*

I'm rushing. My nap after Sunday service turned into a long sleep and I have somewhere to be.
Dressed in a white dress and cream trench with a pink flower in my hair, I'm the picture of prim and proper perfection. 
The train arrives and I inspect the seat before sitting. 
Just as the doors are about close a chick throws her bag onto the train laughing and speaking loudly she and what appears to be her dusty hoodbooger crew run onto the train.
Nostrils flared, body tensed, I become aggravated as she sits her dusty, however cute, kid beside me.
The kid immediately begins swinging her legs. I'm imagining her foot connecting with my bare leg and me flinging her across the train car.
She's whining about something and reaching across my face to her mother asking for something.
I'm not a fan of grubby paws in my face. I want to rip her arm out of it's socket. I see the mother with a black, bodega bag filled with junk. Doritos, cheese popcorn, etc.
The kid wants the Doritos. The hoodbooger mother says, "You don't want the popcorn? It's healthy!" Poor delusional soul. 
The kid swings her legs in what appears to be the beginnings of a tantrum. I look on in disgust and disbelief as the mother concedes and hands over the cheesy Doritos.
The rugrat begins to lick, one side then the other, of the chip. Her hands orange from the imitation cheese. 
She proceeds to crunch and crackle and I watch as Dorito crumbs spray all over her shirt and the small space between us. 
The mother quickly leans across me and flicks the chip crumbs onto the train floor.
At this point I'm sure there is smoke coming from my ears. 
I keep looking at the little girl and her hands expecting the train to suddenly jerk and her grubby little orange fingers to touch me. 
As the train pulled into the next station, a few s

eats opened up and the mother moved the child to sit next to her.
I realized it was not a band of merry hood boogers at all, but a mother and her two daughters. 
They were hood for sure but I realized the mother was dressed in scrubs. Clearly she has a job.
The kids weren't dirty..just dressed badly. Gaudy, urban, fashion.
As I watched her hug and kiss the little one and talk and laugh with the other, I saw a loving mother and her kids.
I immediately felt ashamed for having judged her from her attire.
I took out my fone and began to type.

*Ding dong*
Thank you for riding the MTA