Holy Sweet Loving Jesus on a Stick. I had the worst train ride home ever today. Ever. In the history of train rides. And trains have been around a long time.
There I was, reading my book, listening to my music, thinking about my dinner, when from the back of the car came the unmistakable sounds of someone being madly, violently and gushingly sick. You know how fast a cheetah runs? Neither do I. But I guarantee it's a mere fraction of the speed with which I grabbed my backpack and gunned my arse right out of there.
I was still all shaky by the time I got home. But that's when I found a package from New York City waiting for me.
It was full of Pop Rocks! And Nerds! And Silly Putty! What a lovely big sister I have. Now my day is a bit less horrifying.