28 October 2002

Because S. King is a loser with zero webskillz—no, no links for him, no not any at all—I am STEAL­ING his hot content instead of linking to it:

last wednes­day i was hanging out in a subway car staring up at the ads and trying not to attract at­ten­tion when a girl got on at boylston. not a hot girl, but no­tice­able — one of those rare subway pas­sen­gers with facial ex­pres­sions and hints of life behind their eyes and glances.

so we’re riding along stand­ing next to each other, and i’m aware of her, and i’m pretty sure she’s aware of me for the same reason — we’re both voting members of the general as­sem­bly of the League of Here We Are On the Subway, La La and co-chairs of the Man, Will You Just Look at These Zombies subcommittee.

ever-popular park street is the next stop; we both get off and go downstairs, outbound. she ends up on the center platform; i prefer the wall side. i end up across the tracks from her. just hanging out. i’m not looking at her; she’s not looking at me. i ac­tu­ally hate these situations. if i was more of an ex­tro­vert i might develop ways of picking up new friends on the subway, but as it stands i’m an in­tro­vert with a girl­friend and no talent for ne­go­ti­at­ing awkwardness. whatever. i won’t do anything.

as i think all this i non­cha­lantly put my hands in the pockets of my coat. the left one en­coun­ters a soft lump of some­thing that i can’t identify. i pull it out. it’s a pair of black silk panties. whoa, how did those get there? i stare at them in total befuddlement. they’re not hodge’s — where did they come from? did they come with the coat? did i buy this used, or —

at this point i look up at the girl; she’s already looked away.

Go visit iiiii.nu y’all.