I don't get mad easily. So, when I do - I know something's out of whack. This morning, I nearly popped a blood vessel in my forehead trying to find my umbrella. The more I looked, the more frustrated I became.
Know what that's called, friends? P M frickin' S. THAT'S what. I had to leave before I started pulling the drywall down with my teeth.
Then I got on the bus. Apparently, I didn't get the memo that today was No Hygiene Tuesday. Cool. So, I had 3 olfactory choices in my immediate radius - depending on which way I decided to turn my head.
1. Left: Chronic Coughing Mothball-Smelling Old Man.
2. Straight ahead: Middle-age Man Suffocating Morning Breath.
3. Right: Chain Smoker.
I picked the smoker. Because I at least KNEW and understood what the smell was. And at least he wasn't coughing or exhaling a wave of soup breath in my face.
Don't mess with this ninja today, stinky people.