The Judgey Commute

With the autumnal mornings getting darker, colder and blurrier around the edges, I'm finding the daily struggle that is the morning commute, or as I prefer, the brimstone laden path to eternal and everlasting damnation, harder and harder. Normally the scene plays out like this; 7am heralds my exultant emergence from the warm comfort of my regal bed chamber, stomping down the cold corridor and almost tripping over the wascally wabbit that is The Kitten, I catch a glimpse of my fine self in the gilded mirror, scarily unfazed I find my reflection to be not dissimilar to that of a Himalayan Sasquatch human hybrid.

I stop in the doorway, one eye firmly shut against the oh-not-so-glorious morning sunshine using my own ingenious design;  an airtight seal of yesterday's mascara and liquid eyeliner (patent pending). The other eye blearily scans the kitchen, regretfully noticing it looks more like an eastern European capital city than my lovely open plan kitchen/dining/living/passing-out-after-a-big-night-out-and-forgetting-where-my-bedroom-is area, newspapers, uni books and empty tea mugs smugly litter the work-surfaces. 

The other eye finally opens. Hmm guess that seal wasn't air tight after all (patent still pending).

Make-up: Jump-starting ladies confidences Per Diem since 3500 BC

Tankard-sized Coffee Mugs: Helping people resist committing suicide every morning since a shitload of time ago

Showered, dressed, shoe'd and rearing to go, feeling good as The Kitten did not decide to launch an all out war with my dressing gown ties today. I manage to get myself safely over the road and past the roaring cement trucks that thoughtfully wake me up before the rooster at City Farm decides that I have had far too much sleep and that I daren't sleep past 5.30 for fear of being greedy(whoever thought putting a farm complete with geese, roosters and chickens in the middle of the city deserves a really angry letter sent to them).

Finally on the platform waiting for the train to the city, soon enough the reassuring screeching of the train can be heard from just around that bend in the tracks. I look up and to the right to watch my chariot arrive, but nothing appears.

5 Seconds go by....

No train...

10 Seconds go by...

Still no train. 

I look at the little minute countdown thing, it reads 4 minutes. My heart sinks, not because of the annoyingly long wait for the train, but my brain has been released from it's morning fug and put two and two together. The sound isn't of a choo-choo. That sound is of an eye-wincing, migraine-forming, all-hopes-of-a-selfish-life-are-dashed-when-the-strip-turns-blue, baby. 

Faaaaaaarrrrrrrrkkkkkk.

Now, normally I avoid religion like Edward Cullen does the solarium, but this morning I was giving it my all, asking the Big Man in the sky to not let this spawn of Satan onto my carriage. Obviously, G-Dizzle knew that while I was a Sacristan in junior school I used to pilfer 'the body of Christ' and share it with my posse during recess, so it's perfectly reasonable that he flipped me the metaphoric bird. Hello Headache, oh boy have I missed you. 

The journey into the City is only 4-5 minutes, 4-5 minutes of sticking red hot thumb tacks into my eyes would have been better, me thinks, and of course the thing is right next to me, as is the thing's mother. Not knowing where or how she crawled out of the gutter I cast my gaze down to the fog-horn. Naw, it's kind of cute in a mini-me, without the mini Dr.Evil grey pant suit, kind of way. It starts to turn down the volume on its wailing and get's a rather peculiar look on it's face. I'm wondering what it's thinking when it decieds to show me what it's thinking, the bundle of joy opens its mouth and let's a lovely little surge of vomit trickle down it's bum-chin and onto it's onesie.

Ew.

I've had enough and look away, but spew-shirt decides hes going to embark on another aria for our enjoyment. 

That's it.

Judgement time.

(I feel like I need a sound effect every time I judge something/someone - probably get a bit noisy though and I'd end up judging myself)

I look at the Mother, her head body half wrapped around the center pole with her fly undone, charming. I notice she's staring at her baby. She'd actually been watching this gremlin lose his shit screaming and then lose his lunch. She lifts her head and looks at me, uh-oh, she's got crazy eyes. She's got crazy eyes and I've got judgmental eyes. This will not end well. 

I'm too far in. My eyes are already narrowed. My top lip already curled. My head about to slightly do the 'what the hell' nod. I can't stop now, I have to follow through. I was holding fast, ready for the onslaught that would succeed it.

"What are you fuckin' staring at?"

There she is! More charming than I'd imagined. Too stunned to speak, she was quick for someone who smelt like dirty drunk, I looked away. The Mother politely repeated her question. Luckily the train was pulling into the station and I seized my chance, mapping my escape route I glanced back at the mother and squawked.

"You're baby yakked on itself" 

I ran.

As I neared the station exit I heard bellow out from behind me:

"It's a fuckin baby you fuckin skank!!"

1) I am not a skank

2) Her baby still had spew on it

Judgey Fox: 1   Drunk Mother w/Babe: 0