Did I mention his wife was a legit hillbilly?

Reasons why I am the Hunchback of Cambridge:

1) I decided to attempt to run a 5k after not running since July.

2) During the race I managed to:

• Step on a dead squirrel
• Get passed by a man wearing jeans who was carrying a flannel in one arm and a bottle of Nantucket Apple Juice in the other. (Yes that is a glass bottle.)
• Used my inhaler 6 times.
• Was running as fast as two walkers wearing UGGS.

3) After the race I decided to participate in some of the activities which entailed:

• A weathered DJ that could have been casted for The Wedding Singer and his hillbilly wife who wanted us all to participate in the chicken dance, which is great. It brings me back to my prime years of Roller Kingdom, ah I could go for a Ronnie’s Slushy (blue raspberry) and remember Big Bertha? Laser tag? Ah, to be in 5th grade again.
•  Anyways, the problem was the way he asked us to gather around for the dance, it went something like this, “Hey everyone, make a circle around my hot wife.” I’m not even kidding, those words were spoken.  Did I mention this fund-raising run/event was for children? Did I mention his wife was a legit hillbilly? Have some class DJ, there are children & families present. Pull yourself together. Jeeez!
• In any case, Lull and I joined the others around the “hot wife” and moved our limbs around to the song. Once again, the DJ crossed the line: when it got to the part where you need to move your bottom the DJ screams “Now shake your butt!” Are you kidding me? You are so inappropriate.You disgust me DJ, you and your "hot wife."

4)  After running in the race and feeling awkward about what happened during the chicken dance I decide that the best thing to do is to go to my friend’s house and continue to exercise my dance skills to excessive 90’s hits.

• So if you see me, don’t be alarmed. I am fine, my muscles will heal, but I will never be able to think of the chicken dance as a childhood past time, I will now have it intertwined with the dirty DJ and his “hot wife.”

  

“Now shake your butt!”

  

Big shout out to Lull, Paul & Taylor, who all beat me in the race. You are all athletic.

Love,

  The Hunchback of Cambridge

Why did I have to wear my beer T-shirt today? Dang it all.

I joined a gym. I'm really excited about this, I swear.

There is something different about this gym, something I have never seen in my life. There is a place called the “all women’s” area.  I don’t understand this. There isn’t an “all men’s” area? Is this the compensation we receive for still earning less than men? Our own workout area? Wow, how thoughtful, thanks? Anyways, since I got there at prime time: 7:00pm, most of the machines were being used in the “regular” area, so I strolled into the world of "girls only". I got up on the elliptical and realized something strange as I grew a foot taller. There is a big glass window in front of me.

 I am staring at all the "others” and even worse, all the “others” are staring at me. Literally we are face to face. This is uncomfortable. I am not one of those girls that puts thought into gym attire, I will not be wearing headbands or fitted water resistant shirts. I will most likely be sporting my 1998 MTOC t-shirt and my go-to Lyndon sweatpants. On this day I was wearing my awesome Colorado State University sweatshirt and underneath a Fat Tire beer T-shirt, even better.

Did I mention I have asthma? Well, now my shiny blue inhaler is propped up like a sorcerer’s sword for all “the others” to see, never mind the poor people around me that have to listen to my heavy breathing (I’m so sorry, turn up your music, that’s what I do). I hope they think my inhaler is mace. Don’t look at me, or you’ll get it. I will jump off my horse (elliptical) and use my sword (my inhaler/mace).

 This set up is just not conducive to my needs. I am on display. I feel like a sweaty, panting, disgusting human in some kind of scientific experiment for all others to gaze upon. I jump down from my elliptical horse and stroll to the special spray that will magically get rid of all my germs I left on the giant animal. I am finished with this social experiment, good day!

I hate talking to people at the gym. Or while I’m exercising in general, I just want to get it over with. So when a boy started walking towards me as I was cleaning off my elliptical horse, I wanted to turn into Alex Mack and squirm right out of that situation in puddle form. Unfortunately I am a human with no super natural powers so I had no choice but to stand there gripping my inhaler (mace/sword) and act like I didn’t see him coming over (naturally).

Did you go to Colorado State University? He asks me as his crest white teeth are exposed and his beautiful blue eyes make it hard for me to keep eye contact. Did I mention I was sweating?  I have no idea why he is asking me and I instantly think he must be a mind reader? A stalker? Either way I am mesmerized by his smile and blue eyes, his hair is waving lightly to the side, it's dark brown and looks like he just came from Supercuts and they styled it for him. He resembles Eric from the Little Mermaid if he were a human, I know, attractive, right? Then I snap out of it and remember that I had on my Colorado State sweatshirt earlier and I explain to him that I did go there and that I wish I was at Horsetooth Reservoir (a beautiful spot in Fort Collins, Google image it, you will not be disappointed). Then I get even more excited as I remember that I’m wearing my Fat Tire beer T-shirt (which is only the most delicious beer in all of the world, that is also made in Fort Collins!) so I show him excitedly -and I’m talking first day of Kindergarten -I dressed myself for the first time – excitedly: Did you see my shirt too?!  He then replies by telling me he can’t drink anymore and that’s why he works out, but that was his favorite beer. On that note, we go our separate ways, I tell him to take care and I meant it. He was really nice.

Why did I have to wear my beer T-shirt today? Dang it all. Maybe I should look into those water resistant shirts; maybe it would absorb my sweat while not shouting out to people “I drink beer”.  But then my “Malness” kicks in and I make some bullet points about this gym night in my mind they include:

1)      I will never go into the “all women’s” area again.

2)      I will wear my beer t-shirts, my 1998 MTOC shirt and my favorite Billy Joel shirt that just has his face enlarged across the front, because I like those things.

3)      Everyone sweats. It’s natural and shows I am a healthy human, right?
4)      I can’t wait to be one of the “others”
5)      Thank you Fort Collins, CO – you brought an attractive boy over to me

6)      Take care attractive Eric from the Little Mermaid in human form, take care.



Dang it all.



For the love of my red circular face

Let me begin here by being honest with all of you. I moved. I know. Huge deal. I can hear you now thinking: Mal, your blog is called "Short hair, Long commute." I bet you don't even have short hair anymore! Well guess what. It's hard commuting 20 hours a week. It is. Don't ever try it. And I do have short hair still, and now it's black, like my heart. Just kidding. (about the black heart, my hair really is black, ok not black, dark brown – you got me.).  Anyways, I want to continue my blog, but please understand this, although there will still be some epic awkward encounters from commuting- obviously there is endless material there, but I will also be tapping into the world outside of the train. I know, this is a big step, I'm not sure I can handle it either, but let’s try......

I need to start exercising again. Not only will I look great, I will be able to properly ride the commuter rail or any T line or any bus for that matter. If you even have an ounce of fat on your body you are very aware the moment the train starts bobbling down the tracks. I sit in the window seat most mornings, because I'm awesome. No it's because Westboro is like the third stop. Anyways, I am sitting there and can't help but feel a bit self-conscious as my circular face starts to swoosh up and down like a cartoon character who is falling off a cliff and one part of their body stays up and then zooms down to meet the other half. You know what I'm talking about. So my face is falling off a cliff while my body has no choice but to slink down in the seat and be rattled around like a rag doll, this is very attractive. As all of this is going on I think of ways to fix this right away, for crying out loud I could meet my husband on this train, I need to look fit. Quickly I suck in my circular face; I look at the smudged window next to me to see a fish. That doesn't work. I give up and allow evil gravity to take hold of me. That evening I was waiting to go home and I got to the waiting area a bit early, I turned the corner to sit on a bench and you won't believe what I saw. I saw a lady who must sometimes also feel like a cartoon falling off a cliff. She is doing arm curls with her big purple purse. I want to go over and join her, but i decide to see what other exercise moves she has up her orange coat sleeve. Next she decided to do a few jumping jacks, then - I give her big props for this, she moves over to a bench and she starts doing bench squats. I could not believe this woman. I wanted so badly to tell her how well she was doing, give her a high five, clap for her…. but I have learned my lesson from the Flower Lady - never speak to anyone, unless you can play hard to get. I was way too proud of this lady - I knew I would yell excitedly and ruin her routine. So I will say it here. Dear Orange Coated Purple Purse Lady - you did a great work out the other day, very creative and good use of your resources. Excellent job. So now I understand how all these people on the go are so fit, purse curls, bench squats, good old fashion jump in jacks. Gotcha.

I got sick again last week and had to drive a few days. I am so much more fun in my car I realized. There is something about your car that just makes you feel like you are a celebrity. I don't know what it is but when I'm in my car alone, watch out because A) I am the best singer to ever cruise the Mass Pike and B) I can make up so many sweet dance moves while sitting down. C) I almost always also drive with my windows down because my hair must blow around in it like a model would do, because I am also prettier in my car. D) I also become a badass. Someone cuts me off and I have to catch up to them and pass them so they know I am faster than them and cooler. Doesn't my Chevy Cavalier with a huge dent on the side with Vermont and Papoose Pond Campground bumper stickers just scream high class? Back off! I'm dancing, I'm singing, I'm a badass. Boo yaaa!

I get uncomfortable at movies when people clap. My face turns red and I need to leave immediately. Come on people, it doesn't make any sense. The person who created that movie is not there. Unless someone stood up and started break dancing or there is someone who just saved an infant from choking on popcorn, then really, there is no need to be clapping. I really don't get it. There are so many occasions where clapping is okay - sporting events, a baby’s first step, a candy dish - but this is not one of them. If you are reading this and you are a movie clapper, please, stop it, for the love of my red circular face, stop. Because what happens is that i forget the whole movie once there is clapping. I get anxious and my mind is focused on getting out of there. I appreciate your enthusiasm, just please, re focus it. I know exactly where you can all go. To the commuter rail waiting area at Back Bay, clap for the Orange Coated Purple Purse Lady and for the people commuting 20+ hours a week to make ends meet, go on a road trip in your car and clap for yourself because lets face it, you are AWESOME in your car, clearly! Just bring it elsewhere. Scram! Get out of the movie theater. THANK YOU!

Never trust a man in suede shoes.

No more ginger ale. It’s October now, thank god. I only drink things that have the word pumpkin, spice or cider in them. October is the month of bliss. It’s also the month I was born. Perhaps that’s why I love it? Or maybe it’s because people are allowed to be silly on Halloween. I really like when people are silly. Anyways, down to business: I have a mixed bag of goods for you fine people, it’s like a trick or treat bag really, some are classic, reliable like your go-to Cherry Blow Pop, some really cute like the Ring Pops and Candy Necklaces, some things made my face look like I just ate a War Head and some just straight up gross, like Sliced Fruit “Candies” (the jelly ones…ewwww).

Ring Pops and Candy Necklaces:  I am sitting in the window seat and we are pulling up to Natick. I’m surprised at how athletic everyone is in Natick. People are straight up sprinting for the train like its Field Day and they were specifically chosen to represent their class for this event.  It’s a Manic Monday and everyone has dark bags under their eyeballs. As spectators inside the train, we all naturally turn our baggy eyeballs to the runners: everyone is doing great, what stamina they have. Then I find my cute, my Ring Pops and Candy Necklaces of the day: I see a couple, or maybe they are friends….a man and a woman and they are holding a big package together, its rectangle shaped and really long. They are both holding it in the crevasse of their elbows while they trot together in perfect unison for the train with Crest commercial smiles and Hollywood slow motion laughter where they slow it down just when the women and man’s eyeballs catch each other. It was beautiful. My Grandmother (Hi Grammy!) and cousins ( Hi cousins!) dogs were sisters: Lily and Shara and they used to run together like this with sticks in their mouths and we would all sit on the porch and adore their cuteness, they were definitely Ring Pops and Candy Necklaces, the absolute epitome of cuteness: both the dogs and the humans.

Cherry Blow Pops: I spotted someone so classic and timeless on the commuter rail coming home one day. Boys may not agree (I'm sorry). I spotted Samantha from American Girl Dolls, but in human form. She was wearing the exact dress. Checkered maroon on white dress. She even had a red belt. Almond eyeballs, tan skin, dark brown hair swept back with none other than: a ribbon, a red ribbon. Who even wears ribbons anymore besides cheerleaders? Only legit American Girl Dolls (in human form). Black tights. Black shoes. It FREAKED me out a little. But I totally respect her. Myself, I had Kirsten and I still think she was the best (mostly because she looked the most like me), but Samantha is legit, she was one of the first three. Anyways, it was my Cherry Blow Pop throwback, I thought to myself: oh good'ol Samantha, it's refreshing to see you out and about. Good for Samantha.

War Heads: So I'm on the commuter rail, and I see this petite oriental women reading her Nook discretely. Or at least she was trying to, she sat in the corner almost facing the window. But I noticed her. This women has rather large eyeballs, I have large eyeballs also, so I know she can't hide her emotions well, because I can't either. I want to know so badly what book this women was reading. Every 10 seconds on a cycle her lips squished together as if she had just ate a blue raspberry War Head, she would then bring her hand up and place it over her mouth, her eyes would bulge and then she would shake her head as if she was disgusted by what she had just read. At one point she slapped the Nook down on her lap, as if to say: "I'm done with you!" But she would always go back. Her relationship with that Nook is exactly how I feel when I eat War Heads. I always go into it thinking YES, I can't wait this is going to be awesome, then I pop it in the mouth and: I make the lemon face, cover my mouth, my eyeballs bulge and then I shake my head. I probably have even hit the bag down on my lap one or two times. But I always go back too lady. You are not alone petite oriental woman, you are not alone. I never was able to identify what book she was reading, that's something I will have to live with I guess.....but if I had to guess I bet it was Twilight. And I bet she's a Jacob fan. Shits crazy.

Sliced Fruit “Candies” (the jelly ones…ewwww): So I made it to Back Bay, time to unwind, maybe even have a special treat, why not? I'm almost 25. Yikes I better live it up. I thought I was going to loose my soul when I turned 20, ask my friends I was really scared. I had a conversation with a friend about what might happen when I turn 25. He told me that I will start hating candy and loving raisins. Obviously this means my whole personality is going to change; I will transform into another human. A strange human. One who doesn't like candy. How terrible. This is terrifying for me to even think about. This was on my mind as I walked into the convenient store to purchase a Reese's. Yes, what a lovely end to my day I thought. I will get to the boarding line early, I will get a window seat, I will devour my Reese's. Perfect.

Everything was going as planned as I stepped onto the train, second person to board, boo-yaa! Then I noticed: all the freaking seats were taken. "Were sorry for the inconvenience we are missing 4 cars this evening." Great! Grand! Wonderful! I walked down the isle, and once I finally elbowed my way through the grumpy people I found an area. An "area", this is a nice way of saying: I sat on the floor. Yes, I did. I know, Sliced Fruit "Candies" (the jelly ones....eewwww). Disgusting. My hands touched the floor. Now I can't eat my Reese's. I look around and all I can really see is the man sitting down to my lefts shoe which is dangling in my face almost as close as the man's belly fat in September (gross). A suede shoe. A tan suede shoe. This man kept changing what leg he would perch on his thigh. And each time I had to bob my head away from his stupid suede shoe. This is the moment when I decided I will never trust a man with suede shoes. I don't even care if they are blue. Never again.

As I scan the people hunched over in awkward positions in order not to touch each other I spot a girl eating a special treat in the window seat, I envy her until I realize she is eating none other than Sliced Fruit "Candies"(the jelly ones...ewww). How gross. At this point I was looking for some hope, some sign that humanity is good. I look over and I see a guy reading a Star Wars book. Ah finally someone with good taste around here. There is the silver lining in all this. I text my friend about this. I feel a lot better. Grown men reading Star Wars, thank you god. Good, honest people still exist. I got home I wash my hands. I enjoyed my Reese's for dinner. It was delicious.

October is really looking up, thank you Star Wars man. Thank god for you.

Ginger ale with crushed ice.

1)      The commuter rail got me sick. How do I know? Because I do. Because business men pick their nose and then they sit next to me. Or maybe it was stress induced because I was going to “The Dunkin Donuts Relay” too much. In any case, the commuter rail got me sick. And then I had an asthma attack…..AT WORK. In my CUBE. I’m okay, don’t panic. The hospital was really very glamorous. They gave me ginger ale with crushed ice. Now that is living. My dad also bought me a milkshake that day. A triple chocolate one.

2)      Since I was sick I wasn’t commuting via rail like I usually do so my apologizes for the shortness and lack of juice-ness. I can tell you about a few things and these few things are pretty big things, with lessons, important lessons, so listen up:

A-     I learned that dogs can tell when something’s wrong. Cody was sitting on my foot when I got home from the hospital. He looked at me like “Mal, are you okay? I can’t believe dad bought you a milkshake.” And I looked at him and said out loud: “Cody, I’m fine, thanks. And dad always gives you treats.” Lesson: Not feeling well? Go sit with a dog. (And I don’t mean your dawg, I mean a real animal.)

B-      On one day that I took the commuter rail home I sat next to a lady who had a HUGE bouquet of flowers. At first I was hesitate; should I ask? Does she want me to ask? Would I want to be asked? Then I realized I had 20 minutes until the train came and I went in for the kill:

“Those are beautiful flowers!” I YELLED (and it echoed).

“Oh yeah, these.” She said from behind the sunflower sharply as she sucked in her cigarette smoke. I thought, yes those! Those big flowers you are hiding behind and your smoke is bellowing out of like some kind of smoke machine for the little bugs who are living in there.

“I made this.” She said as a follow up to her blunt statement. Now we’re getting somewhere!

“Oh cool, is that what you do for a living!?” Why do I always yell at people? I wondered this as my voice echoed again off the concrete walls.

“Yes I do.”

 “That’s great!” I said again way too excitedly.

Then she walked away to the next bench.

Ouch. I just got ditched by the flower lady. I really thought we had something flower lady, a connection or at least potential for a 20 minute conversation.  

Lesson I learned: I need to talk quieter and seem less interested. I need to play hard to get with strangers. Note taken.  

 Lesson for all: If you want to be approached by strangers bring flowers with you everywhere.

C-   Biggest lesson I learned in September: Tell those you love that you love them often, remind yourself how blessed you are with each day.

D-     That’s it, I told you – just a few lessons:  Dogs, Flowers & Love. What more do you need?

Cake for breakfast popsicles for dinner.

This is a snap shot of a nice man. Just living his life. Waiting for the Orange line, wondering what he will eat for dinner. Taco’s or maybe steak or baked beans. At least that’s what I was doing while I stood next to him, it was dinner time and here I was in Boston waiting for that angelic glow behind him to scoop me up and bring me to the commuter rail.


Let’s do a little reverse action shall we? Let me bring you back about ten hours from the steak and taco thought bubbles. It’s about seven fourteen in the morning and I haven't even eaten breakfast yet. I am boarding the commuter rail:


1) There is always that group of people that congregate at the tables. In the case of my morning commute it is a group of females. They throw their purses, water bottles, umbrellas and sometimes their bodies across all of the surrounding seats when you walk by. They will scowl at you if you even glimpse in their direction. These seats are reserved for an elite crew, or what I like to the call them, “The Mean Girls of the Commuter Rail.” If you have seen Mean Girls you know what I’m talking about, it’s that classic scenario of the lunch room where you put your head down and hurry past them, DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT. I have a plan. Next week I am going to ask to sit with them. Yes that’s right, I am going to try to pull a Lindsey Lohan and become a “Mean Girl of the Commuter Rail” because I want to know more.


  Why is the blonde obsessed with cheetah print? Umbrella, water bottle and rain boots. It looks like an actual cheetah is lying down across the two seats as her things stretch out across the blue thrones. And how in the world is steam coming off of the red head’s oatmeal? What is her secret, did they come out with hand held microwaves? Because I would invest in one. My plan:  I defiantly need to buy something with cheetah print, bring a bag of popcorn, dye my hair red and pretend I am Lindsey Lohan.


2) I get bored with the Mean Girls conversation about Kim Kardashian’s wedding. Who cares if she looked short next to her NBA basketball playing husband? As I put my headphones on, “You and I” is playing. I look around and squint at the poster above me. “Simplify your Schedule” and I shit you not this is what it has on it:

• A picture of a barefoot
•  Followed by a picture of the foot with a sock on it
• And then another picture with the sock foot in a boot.
• With the word “Vermont” in italics.

  Now I instantly am worried about Vermonters. COME ON. THAT IS NOT ENOUGH TO FILL YOUR DAY. You can’t just put your boot on and check off your Saturday- that is no way to live your life, plus you didn’t even consider booting up your foot on the other leg! I believe in you Vermonters, you can do so much more. Then I realize above the step by step instructions on how to put on a boot there is a picture of a women looking at the view on a mountain top. Okay, phew, at least this lady climbed a mountain on her Saturday. Good use of your time. I understand now. But for a minute, I was really concerned. Rock on Vermonters and thank you for the friendly reminder of how to put my socks and boots on.


3)   I hate when I hear Dunkin’ Donuts commercials. They are false advertising all the time. They always make it clear that America is running on Dunkin’, but guess what: they don’t even have Dunkin’ Donuts in Colorado. Trust me I lived two years without it and it was brutal, you have no idea. My mouth would literally salivate just thinking about Boston Kreme Donuts and a medium French Vanilla ice coffee, milk, three splendas (don’t judge me). One thing I have learned from being in and out of so many T stations is: Boston one hundred percent does run on Dunkin’s. Yes. This is a true fact. People will grow another arm if it means they will be able to buy their usual coffee on the way to the office. I saw a man this morning holding his Dunks cup in his mouth because his arms were full.


  One thing that is special about Dunkin’ Donuts located in the T stations is that ordering your morning order becomes a relay race:

• Ordering = try-outs. You need to know exactly what you want when you are asked, if you don’t you lose. Losing means you will get a bad attitude thrown at you and most likely not what you ordered. It will also make you extremely flustered and possibly you will develop pit stains. If you make it through the try-outs you have officially made the relay race team, congrats!
• You now need to have money in one hand ready to give to the person; this is your baton for the race. Do not drop that baton or you lose. If you have made it this far you are almost at the finish line, you are doing great.
• You now need to move over to your position (run, do not walk) and wait for the person to pass you the golden baton over the finish line (your delicious morning breakfast).

  Now, I am a rookie at this relay race:


  The woman in front of me orders “Hazelnut coffee -hot, extra cream, extra sugar & a blueberry muffin.” “NEXT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Oh my god. I am not prepared; I will never make the relay race team if I can’t even get through try-outs! What do I do?! I do what any desperate rookie at ANY try-out would do: I copy the person in front of me. “Yes, hazelnut coffee- hot, extra cream, extra sugar and a blueberry muffin.” The lady near the finish line does not even hear me say it (YEEESSSS!) As hazelnut breath leaves the finish line I grapevine over with a big grin, I have come so far I have grown so much, I am the world’s best relay racer in all the T stations! All I need to concentrate on now is the final hand off. The woman comes in my direction, the golden baton looks like the Golden Ticket in Willy Wonka and I feel just like Charlie. I smile and say thank you – she looks at me as if she were a Mean Girl of the Commuter Rail in her past life.


  This is a huge moment. It is the first time I have been a part of the relay race team and crossed the finish line. This must be exactly how the women at the world cup felt in 99’ I tell myself. I am glowing under the florescent lights and surrounded by all the other relay race winners as they proudly hold their cups. I lift mine up as if I were Brandi Chastain lifting up the World Cup.


  Then all of a sudden a rush of PURE panic waves throughout my body: wait a hot minute… I do not like cream. And everyone knows sugar is NOT as sweet as splenda. A blueberry muffin? Who am I? I sit down on the filthy bench closest to me and investigate this muffin. It looks delicious, crystals of sugar so big I can almost see my reflection.


  I take a bite. This is cake. Getting a muffin for breakfast is just like waking up and thinking: I need cake now but I can’t actually say that, so I will get cake but it will be called a muffin. This is genius. Whoever invented muffins, not only do I want to meet you, I want to marry you.


4)   I did not eat tacos, steak or baked beans for dinner. I had two popsicles: one was orange flavored and one was strawberry.

Someone's belly fat should never graze your ear.

I decided to chronicle my experiences as I commute to Cambridge from my humble home in the suburbs. I decided this after I encountered several interesting and awkward situations. Let me get you caught up, here is an overview of August:


1) Who has four single dollars or four dollars in change just laying around to park their car at the commuter parking lot? And why doesn't anyone warn you? Not even the trusty website. I left my car without paying and had my poor mom go back to cram four dollar bills into a metal slit.


2) The first person I sat next to on the commuter rail was a man who from the exterior seemed like a nice, clean businessman. Someone you would want to shake hands with. Five minutes pass and the nice clean business man with grey hair proceeded to pick his nose. Not a casual pick, not an itch, a full on knuckle dig. I did not want to shake his hand now. I wanted him to stop. And it wasn't only for a minute. It was for thirty minutes. Straight. Until he got off at the Newton stop. He wiped his gold on his pants gathered his slimy bag and slithered off the commuter rail. Now my first reaction was I'M GOING TO GAG. Then I smiled - wow, I must make him feel pretty comfortable, but then.. OR MAYBE my opinion just doesn't matter to him. Either which way, it was disgusting and I highly advise everyone using public transportation to invest in hand sanitizer and think twice about shaking people's hands.


3) The Asian boy wearing sunglasses who starred at me the whole ride to Northeastern. Or were you sleeping? That was creepy.


4) The time I ran into my friend and teammate whom I hadn't seen in 10 years only to get screamed at by a women "Are you going to talk THAT LOUD the WHOLE train ride?"


5) When I was walking down Cambridge Street thinking, I am well adapted to city living, I'm like Felicity, I even cut my hair and now I'm walking in high heels to get a coffee. As I was walking with my confidence and my short hair flowing only as much as a Sims character I spotted a pigeon. It was in the middle of the road and a car was coming. (No! OMG, stay cool.) I continued to walk when something very strange happened. The pigeon flew right into my hip. Not grazed me. He flew into me. A pigeon flew into my side.


6) The time I fell in love with the Purdy (a boy I once fancied when I lived in the mountains) look alike and then saw him again later that day in a glass elevator and he looked like one of those untouchable dolls they case in glass boxes so girls like me can't touch them.


7) I saw a man walking to the commuter rail with a huge grin who had flowers in his hand


8) I was sitting on the red line, which for some reason does not smell, has AC and you usually are guaranteed a seat - all are very rare. Luckily for me I got to sit next to a couple. The female sitting on the seat and the man standing up in front of her. My elbow is grazing the females arm my face is almost touching the males stomach. We are in very close quarters here. I'm staying cool. Like Felicity would. I have short hair. I can do anything. The female pushes the male’s stomach "Is this your belly button?!" (As if she was talking to a baby) Now remember my face is ALREADY almost touching this stranger’s stomach right? So can you guess what happened when she pushed in his belly button? Yes. This man’s belly fat grazed my ear.


9) Speaking of body parts grazing each other. I caught the express commuter rail home which is basically a nice way of saying you will be standing up, you will be touching someone, it will smell and you might end up talking to someone with bad breath. Most of these things did not happen to me this day. Two of them did. First of all: I had to stand up. Now due to my lack of core strength I am a very awkward stander on the train but since I am (or was) a soccer player I have a good stance. Not good enough. All it took was a sharp turn and there I was, IPod playing "You and I" by Lady GaGa ( I listen to that on repeat), one second  -I'm mouthing the words and tapping my toe, the next I have sat on a man’s lap. Dammit.


10) I did give a dollar to a homeless man who explained to me he just wanted whiskey. In his defense it was a very cold rainy day.


11) I have seen two people that I SWEAR were people I knew. (They were strangers.) I awkwardly muffled to one that he looked like one of my friends. It was one of those times where half way through it coming out of my mouth I could not even BELIEVE I was saying it.


12) I will leave you with a final smile. This one made my day. After falling up the stairs because I don't have rain boots and I'm uncoordinated and after a lady literally guiding me up the stairs with her hand on my back (thanks lady) I get to the top and there is a beautiful yellow lab with a police officer. A dog! I know dogs, I get them! "Can I pet your dog!?" He let me, his name was Bruce, he was 7 years old. He loves getting his belly rubbed. Cody was so jealous when he smelt that I had been cheating on him with city dogs. I did feel guilty, but then I gave him a Chez-it and everything was back to normal.