LATELY — 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 y’all.