It’s like a bad hair day, only with saggier jowls

I’m having what I’ve decided I can really only describe as a Joe Lieberman day. Basically, I woke up this morning feeling paranoid and pessimistic with a face that inexplicably feels like it’s made of sand-filled deflated balloons. I stayed out last night later than normal with a prof and some classmates, only to wait an hour-plus for the train, after which I shared a cab home from Hoboken with a dude in a business suit and cornrows who asked me six times what I do for fun around here. I also arrived last night at a conclusion that only comes to me maybe once every 11 years, which is to have identified somebody I deeply dislike. I don’t tend to genuinely dislike anyone, at least anyone I actually know, so the realization is kind of a buzzkill. And in this case, I’m paranoid that I might be the only one who so viscerally suffers in this person’s presence. I can’t explain it, call it anti-pheremones or something.

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