October 10st, 2002. Thursday
I had to work until 12:fucking30 last night. I think I'm being punished. I had to watch the Giants-Cardinals playoff game, which I probably would've done anyway, but I wasn't relishing the late-night commute home. And of course, I got stuck with the editor who always takes the longest to edit my trivia questions. So anyway, I left there completely exhuasted and waited forever for the train at Canal st., the first of three trains I would need to take to get home. I spent the entire time waiting for the N-R train debating whether or not it was worthwhile to just take a cab home. If I did, it would cost me about 1 hour's work, which basically would render my last hour there moot. So I just waited. And waited. And finally. Caught the L train at Union Square just as it was pulling in, then the last leg on the G took slightly less than forever, and I only had two stops to go. And after one stop, the train sat there inexplicably for ten minutes.
So I get out of the train and am greeted by the foul stench that is late-night Greenpoint. Some people try to get home early to avoid muggers, rapists, vampires, werewolves, and other forms of evil. I try to get home to avoid the rancid, putrid smell coming from every direction. Forwards, backwards, up, and down. It all fucking stinks. So I duck into a convenience store to get something to eat. I decide that what I want more than anything at that moment is mac and cheese. The deluxe kind, with the pouch of liquid cheese. I am gross. It feels totally pathetic, getting home from work at 1:30, walking around in the foul air, going into a shitty, tiny, dirty convenience store, eyes half open and groggy, and buying the shittiest of shit food. Just when I think I can't feel any more pathetic, I look out the door, and lo and behold, there sits James on his bike, smirking his trademark smirk, the one that makes people feel bad about themselves even if there's nothing to feel bad about. I felt like I'd been discovered and exposed, like I was walking out of a porn shop at 1:30 AM instead of a convenience store. It was just so typical, that in my groggy state, as my primal urges take over, that the one thing I buy in a convenience store is Kraft Deluxe Macaroni and Cheese. The worst part was, this purchase wasn't even what I wanted. I was actually craving Velveeta Shells and Cheese. But they didn't have it.
So I talked to James for a while. I guess he didn't see my purhcase, because he surely would have shat on my about it. He was quite incredulous when I told him I was just getting home from work. He said "You're pathetic." I told him that I was pretending that I'd actually been at a bar all night, and that I was tired and groggy from drinking too much, and that I was just going to go home, cook something salty, and go to bed. This would not be an unusual activity for 1:30 in the morning. He said "Right, right." Then started piling on other possible fantasy components to my fantasized evening. No sympathy from this guy.
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