1. to not eat at subway
probably not going to kill me. but, what if it did? besides, it tastes like shit. and: the lady behind the counter, who is too old to be working at subway, constantly assures you that it will be just a minute, sir, or as she called me today, gentleman. one, i’m eating at subway, so my time isn’t very valuable. two, i don’t want strained interaction. or class conflict. i want a sandwich. three, fuck off and stop letting thugged out middleaged land’s-end-wearing russians pay with $100s.
2. to not buy Sudafed and NFL-licensed Buffalo Bills-themed bandaids
i can spare .50 for the bandaids, ultimately. i only ate one of the sudafed because i broke the first gelcap and i didn’t feel like standing next to a bunch of construction workers licking orange overthecounter decongestant off my fingers. but the other one had broken too, so i wound up standing in the doorway of a liquor store licking decongestant off my fingers and sweatshirt sleeve. i ought to be writing something else; actually, i should be doing my job. by which i mean i have no intention of doing more than the bare minimum of work that will give the appearance of complying with company policy, that policy being that i ought to do something ever.
more later. she came from new york in the summer, we went to the zoo