Not My Day

If you happened to be walking on 6th Avenue between 58th and 57th street at around 8:47 am this fine Tuesday moring, you would have had the good fortune of seeing my pink-and-blue striped underwear.

Congratu-fuckin’-lations.

If you were a construction worker on the corner of 7th avenue and 59th street, you would have been lucky enough to get a full-frontal view.

This day is not starting off well.

First of all, the children are back in school. Nothing displeases me quite like the return of loud, inappropriate youth to my already painful morning commute.*

SIDEBAR: I don’t know if this shocks you, guys, but the blacktress is quite the curmudgeon. I fully anticipate being that old lady who sits on her porch with a shotgun, telling playful imps to “Stay off my goddamn grass!!” I’ll be living in a house on the end of the block, and on Halloween night, children will dare each other to ring my doorbell.

Anyway, I manage to get a seat and start reading my latest book on Oz when, at 86th street, the underground railroad is brought to a halt. That voice comes over the loudspeaker—oh, I mean unintelligible speaker--and tells us there’s a “sick passenger” and we can’t move until they “get help.”
Listen, sickie—don’t ride the train if you think you might vomit your small intestine!!!
I’m sorry. I’m bitter.

I get in to work--surprisingly only 4 minutes late--and I try to turn my grimace into a smile. I check my work email and receive the following heartbreaking news brief:

Australia Suffering ‘Man-Drought’

I think I know how Sarah Palin must have felt about her prego daughter (BabyGate ’08—never forget!).

Apparently, it is the cities on the coast that are suffering the man-drought (which is pretty ironic, if you ask me). This comes as a blow to the blacktress because I have great plans to be based in one of the major metropolises. Apparently, all the fellas in my target demographic have been LEAVING THE COUNTRY (take, for instance, my dear friend Wally Balls). It is not, in any way, raining men.

Dubai, here I come!!!

Luckily, the higher-ups are helping a blacktress get it together. Check this:
Demographers have compiled a so-called "Love Map" that shows how the various clusters of unattached men and women are distributed across the Australian continent.

I’m assuming this "love map" will be available at all major tourist information centers, and I will use it to track down my one true love—and Bindi Irwin.

As you may know from my previous post on the state of men in Australia, all the hearty blokes are in the outback, and there they outnumber women significantly. I guess this means I’m going to have to face my fear of nature, natural predators, and potential sexual predators, and head to the country for some bush living—and some bush loving. I thought that watching “Bindi the Jungle Girl” on Discovery Kids would help prepare me for my upcoming adventure, but I could barely understand a word she was saying.

But I love her anyway.


*Did I mention I hate my job?