So Friday morning found me running and being epically late for work (as always), right? You see, I could’ve taken a cab, but no, I had to go through a tricycle driver who overcharged me, jump around East Avenue to prevent my untimely demise (being turned into road pizza by a jeep or bus or pedicab or tank), and I had to elbow three women just to be able to ride one jeepney to the MRT, where I had to endure a car filled with construction workers who smelled like they were paid obscene amounts of money to not wear any sort of deodorant at all (Also, the way they stank, it’ll take nothing short of Lysol to freshen up the air).

An old image rehashed for relevance

 
And I forgot to mention, it was fucking hot and humid. I was sweating buckets by the time I got off the MRT at Ortigas station. It was rather weird, because I just came out of an airconditioned, half-filled, smelly train just 30 seconds beforehand. More »