Friday, July 26, 2013

How I've Discovered That I May Be a Long Lost Relative of the Cookie Monster From Trying to Eat a Muffin on the T in a Classy Manner

*Disclaimer: If you came to this post thinking that it would be about something else, I would like to state for the record: GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER. I had to say something up front, because I know how people think.*

Unlike every other day when I commute to work, when I'm running a little bit behind (I set my clocks early, 'cause I know I'm always late is basically the story of my life), recently I had ample time to stop at Panera Bread and get breakfast. Now if you know me, I'm addicted to the pumpkin muffins that they have there. (Luckily my roommate is too, so she understands the insatiable cravings for these things.)

It's not sugar on top, it's crack. My roommate and I are convinced. 

After grabbing a delicious muffin and a cup of coffee, I made my way to the T. At this time, it was still early enough so that there weren't too many people waiting at the stop. 

(Quick tangent, and please, if you've experienced this, tell me. If I get on the D line at say ten minutes to eight am, there's plenty of space, and I'm golden for the entire ride. If I get on anytime less than ten minutes to eight, or God forbid, any time between eight and eight-ten, then I'm stuck between some person who bathes by using garlic as soap, an old woman carrying a ferret, and a group of prima donna ballerinas who somehow take up way more space than should be physically possible and think that is customary to violently shove people out of the way when they're exiting the train - seriously though, who the hell are these little girls and where do they come from? I swear they multiply when they're on the train, because they start off in a group of two or three, and by the time they leave, there's like seven of them. So it's that weird ten-ish minute gap in which I will arrive at work calm and collected, or sweaty and looking like I just sprinted from the Pru to the office. End tangent.)

Luckily, I had not reached the witching hour, so when I got on the train, I was able to get a seat to myself, there wasn't anyone hogging elbow room or standing directly in front of me with their crotch in my face (as people are wont to do), the car I was in had air conditioning, and all was well. I had my muffin and I was happy. 

Things should have been fine. Except when I started eating, things most definitely were not. After several minutes of trying to juggle my coffee and shove the muffin in my face, I decided that there is no classy way for me to eat a muffin on the T. Hypothetically, eating a muffin shouldn't take more than both hands (or even more than one hand) because muffins are:
  • compact
  • relatively small in size (unless it's this muffin, but if you're trying to eat this muffin, then you probably have other issues you should worry about) 
But if you're me, then you end up looking like you're on drugs or like you're a relative of this guy.

I believe he may be an uncle on my father's side. 

So if you found a large pile of muffin crumbs on a green line train at some point last week, sorry, that was me. 

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