I legit just got eye-rolled-at by a dude at the gym I had the not-know-my-place-ity to acknowledge as we passed each other in the hallway

I’ve been fully conditioned to not waste my time trying to make friends here, but I sometimes slip up and I accidentally did the eye-contact-and-imperceptible-bro-nod thing at him as we approached each other and he rolled his eyes so hard at me that he almost fell over and won a free ophthalmologist appointment and a lifetime membership to a bitchy gay gym.

AND!

Not only was he not nearly hot enough to pull off that diva shit, but when he came out of the locker room in his billowy, voluminous gym shorts he was standing on a pair of pasty white stork legs that were more chickenshit than Bill Barr in a roomful of grownups.

Leg day, bro. Less eye roll, more leg day. Then we’ll talk.

Welp. I’m here.

There’s no time to get to a matinee unless I can get my luggage, score a cab to my hotel in Times Square, stow my luggage, brush my teeth—hoo boy do I feel like I need to brush my teeth—find the theater, get a ticket and get myself comfortably seated in 14 minutes. I’d say it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibilities, BUT I REALLY WANT TO BRUSH MY TEETH.

But!

BUT!

After we got off the plane, I saw Cap’n Assholepants go into the men’s room ... so I decided to follow him—not in a winkie-lookin’ way but in an I-genuinely-needed-to-pee way. He found a bank of empty urinals and took the end one. So I violated centuries of sacred Urinal Distance Bro Code and took the one RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. I peed just fine ... but he was clearly doing the No Tinkling Sounds Sighs Of Frustration And Backed-Up Plumbing Pee Shy Urgency Dance. Because DON’T KICK ME UNDER MY SEAT OR I WILL FLOOD YOUR BLADDER, BACK UP YOUR URETERS AND SYSTEMATICALLY DESTROY YOUR KIDNEYS, BITCH.

Now. If you’ll excuse me, I have a week of merry musicals to enjoy.