Sandy is over. The mta is recovering.
In honor of NY, I present:
Dear creepy creepy man,
It's like forty degrees. Everyone but you is bundled up. And we are probably getting snow today.
And you have your shirt oh so stylishly unbuttoned beneath your vest nearly to your stomach because you think we, your not so adoring public, wish to gaze lovingly upon the graying thatch inhabiting your chest.
I assure you, this is not the case.
What is seen cannot be unseen.
Button up.
Save our eyes from the burning and yourself from pneumonia.
No love,
The girl in the hat, scarf and arm warmers.
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