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"Nah, I don’t need to hold onto the pole!" said the idiotic woman, right before she went flying, scuffed up my fly new Toms, and sheared a layer of skin off my foot.

Spotted: on the Red Line, where life’s a balancing act

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Second ass in my face in less than 12 hours. For fuck’s sake.

Spotted: on the Red Line, where there’s always a bad moon rising

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Just actually growled at a guy who keeps shoving me with his ass. Got an apology out of him after jabbing him with my elbow like 50 times.

Word of advice: when I’m sitting in the end seat, it doesn’t mean you can crawl into it with me. Your ass isn’t supposed to sit on top of my shoulder.

Spotted on: the Red Line, where personal space is relative

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Two well-dressed, middle-aged businessmen on the commuter rail just offered us their seats… This is the first time in history this has ever happened. Ever. How sad is it that my mind is still blown like 10 minute later?

Spotted: on the Greenbush line, where chivalry, apparently, isn’t actually dead

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Shitty preteen boys are talking about “pulling out last minute and jizzing on her bellayyyy” and getting their “d’s sucked.”

And that is how you know who’s a virgin and has never even seen a pair of boobs.

Spotted: on the Red line, where virginity is lush and alive

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I’m honestly not sure what’s worse - screaming into your phone on a packed train at 7:20am or wearing Mickey Mouse leggings.

Both, however, should be punishable by death.

Spotted: on the Red Line, the happiest place on earth

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The busker playing super sad French songs at South Station really expresses my sorrow over waiting 12+ minutes for a Braintree train at rush hour due to a disabled train at Central

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Woman beside me on the commuter rail just pulled a Blackberry out of her purse. I can only assume the feeling of pure joy and fascination I felt was the exact same feeling a paleontologist must experience when he watches someone unearth a dinosaur skeleton.

Spotted: on the Greenbush line, where everything’s pretty much a fossil anyway

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Bangarang, Rufio!

Spotted: on the Red Line, where we never grow up

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Nothing like rolling some cigs and lighting up on the T to really kick off the weekend.

Spotted: on the Red Line, where “Light Up the Night” takes on a whole new meaning