Picket Lines and Picket Sign. Don't Punsh Me...
Oh man. Waiting for news of the MTA strike. They were supposed to reach a deal by midnight. Which was about seven minutes ago. Gotham is about to shit itself.
This ain't no Disco
You do that voodoo
that you do
Been bored with bloggin’ And when the bloggin’ gets boring, man, its bad. Big bad.
And tonight is my second-to-last night in the ceeeety. Of course, if the MTA workers (That’s Metropolitan Transit Authority –Subway and Bus workers—for you not fluent in Manhattanese) don’t get their shit together in the next ten minutes, then I might be walking home to Alaska. (For those lucky enough not to be totally absorbed in the happenings on this little Island-at-the-center-of-the-Universe, the MTA workers are threatening to strike. Manhattan is in a horrible tizzy. All quite important).
There once was a union maid
who never was afraid.
Which side are you on, boys, which side are you on?
Anyway, perfect time for a wrap-up post. Tie this whole semester together an’ shit.
Unfortunately, this semester is quite resistant to any sort of tying up. Won’t be tied up, or down, or any which ways. Its slathered itself in Vaseline and is running around the apartment with a pair of pruning shears. But I’ll wrestle it to the floor yet.