MiEspacio
I had a patch of bad luck last week when the elbows on three or four of my work shirts ripped, meaning I had to buy new ones. Now, I don’t particulary care for buying clothes for work, because it’s sort of a waste of money as far as I’m concerned. It’s like dressing up to go to the bathroom: you know you have to go, but why make such a fuss of it?
But it was an intriguing day full of storm clouds and sunshine yesterday, so I went on down to Polk street to a secondhand fashion boutique, and found four new suave shirts straight out the bag that I bought. The store was also robbed by a tranny while I was in there, but the guard wasn’t big enough to fight her off before she took off with her pilfered accouterments. On the way back home, I passed a fat man in a clown wig and headphone yelling at his female companion that he wanted pizza, not the "fucking Chinese food" to which she’d taken him. Such a colorful neighborhood.
Friday night, I hit L’End Up and when the bouncer patted me down and happened upon my walkman (that’s right, old school cassette deck and e’erything), he asked, "What the hell is that?" I needs me an iPod.
Remember that before you blame something on society, you are part of society.
