On My Morning Commute

I crossed Jackson Street and there was a young woman walking in front of me. She was walking kind of slow, but it was like she was also swaying back and forth like a drunk—she’s taking her half of the walk out of the middle, and flailing her arms to make sure none can pass. I had to knock her over (almost).

Around Reeve, I caught up with the Pajama Twins. Often, on Mondays and Wednesdays, I pass these two girls that ALWAYS wear their jammies to class at 8. I can’t fricking stand that shit. I have always said, and will continue to say: if you’re too tired put on some jeans and a sweatshirt, then just go back to bed, because you’re going to be completely useless in class anyway.

Finally, as I passed the back door of Albee, a couple young women were talking about their holiday plans. One of them mentioned she would be in MKE for the New Year, because a couple people that they know “are gonna be up from the Army.” I chuckled to myself at the notion of being “up from” the Army—as if ‘Army’ is a city just south of Chicago.

“These are my medals from ARMY, Mother.”

Oh, and if you’re looking for Lorch’s gross finger, please check the public gallery.

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