Ugh

I hop on the 7:42 expecting to see Sir Richard’s smiling face but he’s nowhere to be found.

Instead, I’m greeted by the unmistakable stench of human crap. Apparently the restroom in the forward part of the car is backed up.

Ugh.
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I head up the stairs to my usual spot. I look down at the only available single seat (the type that don’t flip up) and there’s a fingernail smack dab in the middle of it. The floor beneath the seat is littered with them. Someone’s been cutting their nails on the train.

Ugh.
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I find another seat. But now I have a train rookie behind me. He’s on the phone informing all of us that he’s HEADING INTO NORTHWESTERN FOR A CAT SCAN.

Ugh.
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ugh interj

used as the written form of a grunting exclamation of disgust, strain, or horror
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Have you seen the movie Barfly?

It’s the story of Charles Bukowski, a famous poet and infamous drunk who lived in L.A.

The movie is a classic character study of a brilliant and prolific writer who wanted nothing more than to drink and fight and fuck his days away. It’s dark and slow and will make you want to down an entire bottle of really cheap Scotch whilst watching it.

So why should you care about this movie? Because it’s got one of my all-time favorite lines in it:

“Do you hate people?” asks Bukowski’s girlfriend, sitting next to him at the bar like a crumpled up tissue.
“No, but I seem to feel better when they’re not around,” he replies without looking up from his drink.
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And that’s how I feel today.

I don’t hate people. But sometimes I feel better when they’re not around.

Ugh.
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I am listening to: The Mamas & The Papas – California Dreamin’
I am reading: The Fabric of the Cosmos by Brian Greene
And I am: Ugh