F-U-C-K S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G B-E-E-S

J-E-S-U-S

All this week the National Spelling Bee has been taking place in the same building that I work in. For some odd reason this seems to bring out all the F-R-E-A-K-S.
This time of year is like Christmas for the downtown DC beggars - they are 3 deep for blocks, waiting for waves of dorky families to hustle.
For some reason, the Bee also attracts a group religious nuts holding placards with witty slogans like: "GOD HATES F-A-G-S".
Then there's the participants themselves; which seem to be an even mix of awkward home-schooling freak-families, holier-than-thou suburban groups, and enough Indian children to fully cast several dozen Bollywood flicks.
You can't grab lunch in my neighborhood between 11:30AM and 2PM unless you want to wait in line for over a half-hour. The only viable option is to walk for 5 or 6 blocks (in 87 degree heat - in a suit & tie) to escape the 'B' radius. I stink.
Speaking of stink, the subway stop is clogged with families that apparently can spell 'meningoencephalitis', but don't know better than to stop and look around when the come to the top of a moving elevator - or to not stand directly in the middle of the narrow walk-way. I keep missing trains because these fucking brain-trusts can't figure out how to board a fucking subway car, and when they're on they cant figure out how to MOVE OUT OF THE GODDAMNED WAY to let others board and disembark. C-O-C-K-S-U-C-K-E-R-S. Oh, and the fucking pick-pockets are out in force. It's hard enough to maneuver through a herd of obese pseudo-humans without having to worry about your wallet or MP3 player.
I'm going nuts. If this doesn't end soon I'm going to end up S-K-U-L-L-F-U-C-K-I-N-G someone.