What is it about sticks, especially of the five to six foot long variety, that makes dudes pick them up and treat them as play things? It's like, "Look at this long stick I found. It's a bo!" They must have picked that one up from TMNT (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, for those too old or young or outdoorsy as in not staying inside to watch cartoons, to be in the know). The bo was Donatello's weapon of choice.
"Hey guys, watch me flip this thing around like a very long baton, except way more manly, oops I dropped it!!"
"Let me try so I can out man you!"
Well, that's how it seemed to be going down this morning on my slightly less smelly (now that Bobo has closed down) commute along Broome. Those delivery guys hardly ever seem to be working when I'm walking by.
On an unrelated note, last night I burned the top of my mouth on melted cheese from my matzoh pizza (I was desperately starving), and now I'm experiencing a very distracting pain.
Anxiety Is Like
3 days ago
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