This morning I had a doctor’s appointment at 9:00 AM which is more hateful than my 9:15 mandated time of arrival for work. This required me taking two different trains to Chelsea, that gayest of neighborhoods, and because it was relatively warm I opted not to wear my burqa. Luckily, I was not caned with designer walking sticks or stoned to death with last season's shoes.
It took me forever to get from there to work. It was only raining a little -- not at all a major downpour -- but he subway system immediately fell into chaos. Stations closed down, trains became delayed, masses and masses of people accumulated underground. It was awful. If there is ever a natural disaster or biological attack, we’re all dead. There is no "evacuating" New York City. The MTA can’t even deal with a drizzle.
I kicked major ass at work, did the impossible as usual, cupped several people, and fled the scene. On a half day, what?! I may be getting a promotion, according to Boss Lady. More as this story develops.
I returned to Chelsea to pick up a prescription for my heinous ailment that makes me hate my life, and after I got the dope from the pharmacy, I decided I wanted a bite to eat. I passed by Boston Market which, to my horror, was closed by the health department. This is possibly due to the rat infestation and related closings that are plaguing the city.
Disgusted, I went next door (apparently not disgusted enough to go hungry) and had a hot dog, fries and Diet Coke. Upon leaving the hot dog joint, my attention was captured by a restaurant with a name that is the conjunction of two of my favorite things: Burgers & Cupcakes. Burgers & Cupcakes is hot pink on the inside, and outside they have a huge, pink, rotating cupcake. How could I resist? I took my fat ass in for a cupcake from this sugary tempest.
I ordered and planned on sitting there and eating it, but the little snot behind the counter insisted that if it was to stay, that I sit down and order from a server. So rather than sit down, wait on a server, wait for the server to return with my cupcake, wait for a check, pay the check, and leave a tip, I said, “I’ll just take it to go then.” (By the way, after consuming the carrot-cake cupcake, I was disappointed.)
On my walk from the subway I stopped in the store for a pack of smokes. The man in line behind me said, out of the blue, “Nothing is easy, is it?” I smiled. He insisted I answer, “Is it?” I said, “No, it most certainly is not” and left.