Blue taxis, more like when hell freezes over

I hate taxi cabs. I hate their existence, I hate their driving, I hate them. The best part of being a cab driver, I'm sure, is having a stupid number with which to call yourself. There you go, cab drivers are a number among better, more hardworking citizens. Yesterday I swore I would never get in a cab again. Extreme decisions are formed out of trauma, and I must say this is the case. We won't get into details about my car accident and screaming fit with cab number **** in the middle of Comm Ave., but it is evident that those 4-digit-number cabs really don't get the pick of the litter when the cab announcer is auctioning off pick-ups on the radio. And that's all I need to know. Rot in hell.

Nevertheless, I took a cab to class today. I can't remember the cab's number so now I just act shady around any of those white ones with the blue state of massachussetts on the side. I'll never know who it is either because all the drivers look the same and drive the same. This city needs to take group driving courses. I thought New Jersey and New York drivers were bad; turns out, we're good drivers but just like to go fast. Boston, on the other hand, could be driving blindfolded for all I know.

I've been doing a lot of being sleepy and not a lot of sleeping. I'm living in a haze and eating until I feel plump. These are the perks and the downsides of winter, I suppose.

For men who yell at the television during football games

Any new workplace needs a proper introduction, blogs included. I never ignore my duties to create a mysterious yet appropriate introduction of myself and my thoughts before proceding. I have been on haitus from the writing world for the past couple months-- they say you can't produce anything substantial when you're too happy with life. I understand it now. I have been watching quite a lot of television, being indulgent in both food and new clothes, and sleeping when I can. Not much has changed in the last couple years in what was supposed to be the start of a new "life." At the same time, it has all morphed into quite the appropriate introduction to a more controllable, passive, yet passionate lifestyle.

I am under the assumption that you are under the assumption that I am watching television. I am watching and have been watching "the game," as we new englanders call football, all day. I was actually very excited that the Bears were shown on one of the "Big Three" because that means that Fall Out Boy's halftime show will be getting that much more coverage. Nevertheless, their fame has angered and driven me on over the last five years. Good for you and rather bad for me.

About that game: the Pats have just begun and we all know how this place croons for the Brady-meister. Oh boy, take me back to New York please. The boys in the apartment downstairs are making, the again, appropriate comments for every play. Needless to say, they've been watching "the game" all day too. I leave you with luck in escaping your bookies when the Pats don't win.

--Christie