Line Them Up And Knock Them Down.

Well if you can believe it, this morning has been all about loud, broad, generously proportioned women with cropped streaky hair. Out for their morning coffee in tight fitting marked down poly-blend separates. Straight out of middle America they have come to prostitute their spawn to any number of relentlessly well dressed agents. Need an early start.

Their coffee orders are painfully detailed. If anything else in their over-medicated life necessitated such detail they would virtually collapse under the strain, but when it comes to their personality disorder sustaining goo juice there is absolutely no room for ambiguity.

It usually involves foam, varying levels of caramel and for God's sale make it non-fat. There is unaccompanied jail bait mere seconds away from being lashed in the face with one of the bulging seams of that... why don't we call it a blouse shall we?

I survived this ordeal to make it to the office where surprise surprise slut bag Howler Monkey is rapping about Game of Thrones at ear splitting levels. I blast Deerhunter on the iPod & zone, up until the point I'm are jammin to score a vegan scone and am interrupted by ho-bag who wants to know if I'm listening to something called fucking "Smooth Criminal".

Realizing that this is merely a veiled suggestion that my music might be too loud, that some people might wish to enjoy the cacophonous discussion of Game of Thrones in absolute and deferential silence. Moments like this I am thankful for a lot of things, but I am most thankful for not having ready access to a can of pepper spray.