The Daily Poo-phet: where you read about the latest ta-poos!

Ms. Poophet is in her mid-twenties and yet, she was already experiencing mid-life crisis. Or maybe it was PMS. Whatever. All she knew was that she was having a bad ending to an okay day and it was quickly turning her mood sour.

First, she had to make the 1 km trip from her office to the sky train on foot because of an unforeseen circumstance. That wasn’t so bad since she needed the occasional exercise. But then halfway through the trip on the sky train, most of the lights flickered off and so did the air-conditioner. Imagine that…it was a 30 scorching degrees out, and here was Ms. Poophet, crammed on a packed train with regurgitated body heat. Nasty, nasty! A few stops later, a voice came over the intercom system, informing passengers that they had to get off at Siam station due to a hitch in the electrical system. Thank goodness Ms. Poophet had engagements at Siam and was planning on getting off there anyway, or else she would’ve thought the world was out to get her.

Fanning herself with her hands, she was slowly carried out of the train by the tide of people that jiggled and juggled past, disgusted that they were swiping their sweaty bodies against her.

After what seemed like ages, Ms. Poophet finally found herself at the exit to the sky train station and as she regained her posture and began strutting towards her destination in her painful-but-adorable-pumps, she began to loosen up. Afterall, she had a massage session coming up and she didn’t want her body to be tense. A flick of her wrist told her that she was thirty minutes early for her appointment; nevertheless, it had never been a problem — in fact, they required that clients be there fifteen minutes before their session so that there would be time to change into more appropriate attire. As Ms. Poophet headed for the door, another woman who was also approaching the door cast a sideways glance at Ms. Poophet and quickened her steps so that she reached the opening first. Ms. Poophet tried not to let this bother her — the other lady was more mature, not just in terms of age but in her physique as well. (And she didn’t mean this in a good way.)

The receptionist turned to Ms. Poophet after settling Old Fat Lady in a chair and Ms. Poophet told her that she was there for her consultation at seven o’clock. Running her finger down the appointment book, the receptionist told Ms. Poophet that she would have to wait forty minutes for her massage room, since all the rooms were occupied. The enraged Ms. Poophet blurted out, “Then I’m cancelling today,” without thinking, and seeing Receptionist’s panic-stricken face, felt a flood of sympathy towards the girl. She started to give an explanation, but her evil conscience whispered in her ear that she owed this girl nothing, and she went on to say that she will be back on Thursday and to schedule her appointment for six-thirty. Then she stalked out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

Ms. Poophet wasn’t truly a bad person; she was just mean-spirited at times. (Remember she’s going through mid-life crisis — or PMS, whatever!) Her good conscience finally caught up with her and she felt bad for snapping at Receptionist. She consoled herself by saying even if one of the guests left at that moment, Ms. Poophet would still have to wait for over forty minutes anyway, since they still had to clean the room and get it ready for the next client.

Being in no mood to amuse herself any further, Ms. Poophet decided to head for home. The platform of Siam station was hectic as usual and she waited for the next train to come before boarding. She managed to get a little standing space next to two schoolgirls as the train closed its doors. The girls were talking loudly and one of them had a cup of slushy in her hand, and although Ms. Poophet disapproved of eating on the sky train (or on any forms of public transportation), she did not make a comment. She turned her attention elsewhere and being observant as always, she noticed one college boy staring intently at his girlfriend’s face as they stood thisclose to each other and the train started to take off. Trying her best to be discreet, she looked on with interest as his eyes never blinked and stayed gazing at Girlfriend’s face. What on earth could be so interesting about staring into an oily-faced girl, she thought to herself. Oblivious to Ms. Poophet’s thoughts, Boyfriend still stood looking fixedly into Girlfriend’s face. Ms. Poophet could actually feel him getting horny (not physically, of course! He was sending out auras all over the place!) and she had to refrain from chuckling at his adolescent hormones.

The train chose that moment to lurch forward and the two schoolgirls who were gabbing loudly by Ms. Poophet’s side made a grab for Ms. Poophet’s handbag to upright themselves. You should know Ms. Poophet well enough by now to detect her instant irritation. Amazingly, she bit her tongue, seeing as they were children. That didn’t stop her from shrugging her bag free of the child’s clutches. Strike two, she noted mentally.

The voice over the intercom announced the next stop and Ms. Poophet was ever so grateful that she would get off soon. But once again, mishaps always seem to find Ms. Poophet and as a man in a sweaty blue shirt practically stepped over her (okay, it was actually around her, not over her, but you know how Ms. Poophet likes to exaggerate) to stand in front of the door (“What is it with these people always so over-excited about getting off at their stops,” thought Ms. Poophet), the soles of his shoes scratched Ms. Poophet’s ankle. She sent him a look that would melt an iceberg but lucky for him (and unfortunate for her), he had his back to her so only his back was exposed to frostbites. Then, the two schoolgirls decided they had to squish their way to the front of the door so they attempted to push Ms. Poophet aside while their choruses of “Excuse me”’s rang out.

Perhaps it was her tight shoes that was causing her feet to blister or a combination of that and the mounting stress that made Ms. Poophet blow her top. She turned to the first child, gnarling, “Hold on a minute! The door’s not even opened yet and I’M getting off here too!” That shut the girls up, and Sweaty Blue Shirt, not prepared for his fate, turned around to get a faceful of wintery glare from Ms. Poophet.

As the train came to a stop, the second girl whimpered, “So scary,” to which almost prompted Ms. Poophet to turn around and lash out at them again, but the door opened at that moment and she stepped out with a grim stride. She briskly walked up to the lobby in her condo and waited for the elevator. As she did so, what should she see but Schoolgirl One climbing the steps to her condo. Ms. Poophet slipped into the elevator swiftly and hastily pushed the “Close” button. At last, she was back at her haven where no mishaps can get to her — until tomorrow.