Knowledge Is Power

I could not have been in a better mood when I left the house this morning, despite the overwhelming smell of freshly-squeezed cat dung emanating from the litter box in my living room. I even took the time to completely blow my hair out. Tamed today it would be!

Bought two iced coffees because I WANTED TO.

Got to the train station and saw dozens of peeps, my usual commuting companions, all standing in front of the station entrance on their cell phones. Uh oh. I removed my earbuds to listen in.

"It's just completely not running."
"So what are we gonna do?"
"I guess we'll have to take the G."

I reached around to my cell phone and...oops. It wasn't there. Musta left it in my room. Since I was apparently going to be late anyway, I walked home to get it. Good thing I bought two iced coffees!

On my way home, I passed several people whom I recognized from my daily morning trek. I told a few peeps heading purposefully toward Metropolitan that the L wasn't running. They thanked me as I watched their brains begin to search for alternative routes. I felt like a good samaritan, helping my fellow 'Burg'ers get their asses to their day jobs (because EVERYBODY in the Burg is working on a pipe dream, myself included!), and save a little time.

And then I encountered the Preppy Dude.

I don't like him. I have completely prejudged him and I would bet an ovary that I'm either on point, or so close to the mark that the difference would be akin to splitting hairs. I think he plays the Nice Guy with the ladies, bangs them, and then never calls them again. Which is fine, you know, bitches do that, too. But I bet he's pathological. I see the way he checks out girls on the train. I think he's a heartbreaker and he likes it, which pisses me off for some reason. I think he's keeping score.

So, anyway, he was walking toward me, and we looked at each other in passing. I chose not to tell him about the L train. I chose to steal what would total at least 5-10 minutes of his life. Maybe that was mean. Why wouldn't I extend the same courtesy to him as I had the other daily strangers? Why should he not benefit from my splendiferous mood, as well? Who am I to dole out justice for imagined (yet likely) crimes?

I am a female with a sixth sense and an unrelenting loyalty to my sisters.

In short, I'm a spectacular fucking bitch!

I was rewarded for this downturn in karma with a hellish commute and now-huge hair. But it was SO worth it.