To the girl on the link this morning: You sat next to me at Mountlake Terrace and started doing your make-up, banging your brushes around, and getting powder mostly on you. Fine, live your truth. Check your look with some selfies. But when you started shaking an aerosol can of hairspray? Dry shampoo? Whatever the fuck it was, I was too shocked. There was no way, I naively thought to myself, that you have the audacity to spray a can of hairspray on a packed train at rush hour.
But you sure as shit did spray your melon-y garbage all over me and everyone in our car. You got off at the next stop (U District). It couldn’t have waited? Did you ever think for one second about anything other than you and your mid hairstyle? Truly, fuck you.
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