I Want to Run

It fucking sucks that running in non-athletic apparel isn't socially acceptable.

I hardly ever face this issue, but when I do, I hate having to make the decision of whether to run or not. I always decide not to, because running down the street in "street clothes" is basically the same as whipping out your balls and screaming at your shadow, but I feel like a caged animal for the rest of the time it takes me to walk to my destination.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Here, I'll give you an example.
This evening I went to check out an apartment in Brooklyn. My lease is up at the end of October and I have to get this shit done or I will be a 27 year old man living at my Mother's house in New Jersey come November 1st.

Mumsie, could you tuck me in and read me a story, Mumsie? Tell me I'm not a failure, Mumsie!

So even though the Yankees were playing the first game of the playoffs AT 6 PM FOR SOME FUCKING STUPID REASON, I had to go check out this apartment that seemed like it could be "the one" based on the pictures (which turned out to be accurate! Keep your fingers crossed, guys!).

Brooklyn, any part of it, is a long fucking way from Yorkville, and  it took me about an hour to get back to my hood. I finally got off the 6 train at 7:38 pm (I should've been rolling express on the 4 or 5 but THERE WAS A GOD DAMN POLICE INVESTIGATION AT 42ND STREET WHICH MEANT THE TRAIN WAS GOING TO BE DELAYED FOREVER WHICH MEANT I HAD TO SQUEEZE MY STUPID ASS ONTO THE JAM FUCKING PACKED LOCAL 6 AND OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE A FUCKING POLICE INVESTIGATION WHEN I'M TRYING TO GET HOME TO WATCH THE YANKEES (I hope nobody was hurt)!), and all I wanted to do was run home to see the game. The combination of me being an idiot and forgetting to set the DVR and MLB being fucking retarded and moving the game to 6 meant that every minute later I got home was a minute of the game I was going to miss.

I DIDN'T WATCH HUNDREDS (THOUSANDS?) OF HOURS OF REGULAR SEASON BASEBALL TO MISS ANY MINUTES OF THE POSTSEASON!

I wanted to run.

I wanted to run so fucking badly. I could've been home in like 3 seconds. Fly like the wind, son.

But I didn't run because running in "street clothes" makes you look like an idiot.

(you might as well be roller blading)

So it took me 10 minutes to get home by walking like I had a giant shit in my ass when I could've been there in 3 seconds if SOCIETY WASN'T SO MEAN!

(Also, I had to wait on line at Duane Reade for 5 minutes to purchase a cheap 12-pack of Bud Light bottles.)

So next time I see someone running for no discernible reason, I'm not going to judge that person. I'm going to stop in my tracks and shout to everybody on the street, "THIS MAN PROBABLY HAS A VERY VALID REASON FOR RUNNING! STOP FUCKING JUDGING HIM!