A Series of Unfortunate Events

Don’t you just hate it when… 

You Have to Get Out of Bed in the Morning

6.50. That’s too early. It just is. Especially on a Friday.

You Help a Colleague With Something You’re Not Really Paid To Do, But They Still Don’t Say Please or Thank You

Come on, world. Not asking much, is it? There’s plenty of appreciation to go around; no one needs to hoard it.

You’re Not Actually At Glastonbury, You’re Just Listening to Some Highlights of it Live on 6Music

(And to Stuart Maconie, skillfully meeting the minimal demands of yet another soft gig. How do you get to do what Stuart Maconie does for a living; chit-chatting and listening to music?)

Stuart Maconie

Your Colleague Throws Out Your Homemade Lunch, and the BED BATH & BEYOND Tupperware Container You Keep It In

I get it. Clean out the fridge every now and then… But I have literally never abused my fridge-using privileges. Just this one time today I had to do something else for lunch, and was all set to take everything back home with me at the end of the day. What a cruel twist of fate! I’m one of the good guys. I respect the fridge. And am never the mysterious oddball responsible for all the half-eaten yoghurts, bags of rotting fruit, and GIANT bottles of Diet Coke.

I never use the fridge for anything, save for what I sometimes put inside a BED BATH & BEYOND Tupperware container. The one that fits real nice into my bag, has an excellent seal, and they don’t sell anymore.

You Miss the 5.41 Train Home Because You Can’t Find Your Homemade Lunch, and the BED BATH & BEYOND Tupperware Container You Keep It In

I leave in time to catch my train. We all do that, right? And that literally never factors in the time it takes to ascertain the whereabouts of my homemade lunch, and the BED BATH & BEYOND Tupperware container I keep it in. (No, I didn’t fetch it out the trash; I’m not that crazy.)

The Subway Train That Gets You to the 6.03 Train Home Has an Internal Temperature Approximately Hot Enough to Boil an Egg

No air conditioning. In a giant metal tube, in New York City, in the summer, underground. Even my early morning shower can’t protect against such a thing. I basically look and smell like a sleepy vagabond.

You Struggle to Get a Blog Written on the Train Home Because Two New Jersey Girls Across From You Are Talking, Like, Real Loud About, Like, You Know, Stuff and That, Yeah

(And where they’re going to be over the weekend, and what they’re going to be doing there, and who they’re going to be there with. And why it better not still be raining by then.)

It Rains

(And you don’t have an umbrella or a coat, and still have to catch a shuttle bus from the train station, hot, stinking, and tired.)

…No, me neither. But I’m happy to be home.

You Don't Have to be Jewish to Love Levy's

About newjonnytransit

Same as ever, only better.
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2 Responses to A Series of Unfortunate Events

  1. Sister says:

    Very funny x

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