Baby Talk & Tonsil Hockey

It's 8:07AM and I've just headed out to catch the T to work. After rushing around to get some chili in the crockpot,spilling a bunch of crushed tomato on myself and generally having a rough morning. All I want to do is settle in on the T and take a nap!

Enter the rainy day T ride. Muggy, smelly, sticky, and most of all crowded. Round about 8:15, I pushed my way on my train, and wriggled down the narrow car toward the back. I managed to sandwich myself in between two girls in a coveted door alcove. Then. They got on. You know them. The couple who sort of matches, talks in obnoxiously loud voices to each other about their personal business and spends half of the ride sucking face.

As luck would have it, they packed themselves in tightly right next to me. The T lurched away from the platform with a screech and I had nothing to do but listen to their ridiculous conversation about triplets (?) and their making out. Suddenly, it became very clear that this couple was even worse than normal. Girlfriend began baby talking Boyfriend and then in a move that almost made me vomit, starting weird babbling baby, bubbly blowing noises as she moved in for the kill. Ick! If you want to blow raspberries on your boyfriend tonsils do it on your own time, lady! Or at least pick a day when I'm not pressed just as tightly against your boyfriend's side as you are. Jeez! I've never been so happy to arrive to work. . .40 minutes later. 

My name is Katy, and I disapprove of playing tonsil hockey on the T. 

I do approve of being thankful though. . .