Too many damn things

My right pinkie is so flarking itchy. My eczema has taken it over like a guerilla army and now my poor pinkie has no pinkie shape left. It’s thick and scary and un-pinkie like. And it’s very scaly.

I’m actually itchy all over. My face is itchy and if I scratch it looks as though I have a scary red moustache. My scalp itches, but if I scratch then I won’t be able to dye my trailer park roots this weekend. You know how the box of hair color says to not use their product on a broken scalp? They’re so not kidding. The resultant scabbing and ick are indescribable if you do not heed their warning.

I fucking hate the bus. I want to be rich and be able to drive to work and park in the good lot every day. I hate the students who don’t take off their backpacks and who hit you in the head, leaving a textbook-corner shaped mark on your forehead. I hate people who are sitting between me and the aisle and who don’t get up but only turn to the side when I need to get up, thus forcing me to shove my ass in their face and practically give them a lap dace to get off. I hate teenage girls who talk SO LOUDLY about the most imbecilic things on earth as if they were the most important things that will ever happen to them. I was never like that, no I wasn’t. I hate the skeezy bus driver who uses his job to check out the coeds and keeps the heat on so the coeds have to take off their sweaters/jackets and expose their pitifully underfed bodies partially covered by their equally pitifully ineffective clothing. I hate sweating, and I especially hate other people sweating as their thigh is pressed to mine in a very, very bad way. Oh God, I hate the bus.