Muchachita
I can feel the thirty-ness creeping up upon me. It’s but two months off. Holla Scholar and I were discussing it just the other day. We no longer get carded when buying alcohol. Like, not at all. I mean, it had started to taper off, but now it’s gone.
I had thought it might have something to do with the fact that I’m usually in work clothes buying it at Trader Joe’s during my lunch break. But then I saw this notice all the cashiers had on their registers: REMEMBER TO ID ANYONE WHO LOOKS UNDER 35. And I says to myself, I says, Do I really look six years older than I actually am?
Who is that faggot-y Tommy Lee-looking homo with the fluffy raver-cum-pimp hat who hosts "The Pick-up Artist"? "Mystery" is his name? The only mystery is why this queer duck thinks he’s got the goods to get any and all chicks.
"LA Ink" rules.
I first saw use of the word "messianic" the other day, and have plans to use it liberally heretofore.
