I stretched and my button popped off my pants.

So I stretched and my button popped off my short pants that I bought in Paris in 2001 this past Friday. Then I shared a burger and cheese fries with cousin and lex on that cold, bitter nipples cold evening at my once favorite diner Tick Tock near Penn Station.

Lex: I would make so much money if I waited here... and I would be the only person that speaks English. Its like fucking Mexico in here.


We ate, we bitched, we bonded over the lack of cheese on the fries.

Then Lex and I headed to Willamsburg to check out this exhibit at Stay Gold. I hate Willamsburg. Poseurs, Nameplates and tall leather boots...oh please. The bartender who bearly moved her lips as she spoke threw drinks at Lex and I so I scratched my name off their mailing list, writing "The bartender was incredibly rude" instead.

SIDE NOTE: DHL man asked where I was from as a pick up line. As a dismissal, I told him that I was from here so as not to give him a way in. He took it as a dismissal and left me alone.

Saturday, Rhoumie's birthday at Puck's Fair Bar, I met a Spainard wearing an Irish clatter (sp?) ring. I knew in an instant that he was corny.

Its that simple.

Got jipped selling clothes to Beacon's Closet but I still love Beacon's Closet. I want to sell my BCBG leather jacket. $100. Why keep something that would look nice on someone else... and then maybe I can pay Con-ED and my student loans again.