Funny. Last night I was walking home from the marta station and there's this older lady driving a luxery SUV gawking at me as I crossed the street. I had a Ulysees momment where I evaluated my stream of conciousness as it occured. I thought about what I was wearing: black leather biker jacket, a fit T, my new blue jeans that are too tight and put my package right on display. I suddenly felt like I was in 'my own private idaho'. Clearly I must look like a male hooker limping down Memorial. I was generaly pissed off because my feet were infact killing me. Which is why it crossed my mind to make the V sign with my fingers, lick between it and yell, "Ten dollars!". That would have been mean. I hate yuppies. I have class issues.
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I need to rewatch My Own Private Idaho. It has been too long. I also need to hang out with more boys who wear tight jeans.
Yelling at yuppies is always winning. Ah, l'esprit d'escalier. All the things I wish I'd said...