Musings from my morning commute on the C Line.
As some of you already know, I’m a creepy T-stalker, which basically means I know just about everything that’s going on in the lives of the people I commute with every morning. They think I’m listening to my iPod. I’m actually taking mental note of how crazy they are. It’s weird, I’m well aware.
Anyway, there’s a pair of T-patrons that are more exciting than the rest, and I like to refer to them as Angry Engaged Couple.
If you can’t tell by the name, Angry Engaged Couple came into my purview by fighting over wedding plans. He basically called her controlling and she basically told him he had a small penis (I’m not making this up). She’s a super horrible person and he’s, what’s the phrase, out-punting his coverage? Her diamond is the size of my face, and they’re seemingly miserable. One time she ripped the Metro out of his hands because he wasn’t paying enough attention to her. This happened right in front of me, and she almost smacked me with the paper. I mean, now I’m involved.
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