...but I could give a flying FUCK about your new shoes, your new car or the "awesome" vacation you just took. I'll direct my frustration convienently at this guy I worked the door with last week at work. "John" is a really nice college kid, who happens to work at a fancy-pants sneaker boutique in Wicker Park.
His biggest concern in life is how best to subtley advertise the new $200 pair of kicks fresh from Japan without tipping off the owners/employees of the neighboring sneaker boutiques. GOD FORBID THEY LEARN WHEN THEY WILL DROP THEM!
And here I am, coughing my lungs out, sick as shit, without access to healthcare (i.e., no insurance), 8 years his senior, and with this shitty 1 night a week "job" making $50, and grateful for it. I'm trying to make fucking RENT and EAT; I care NOT about your mylar infused boots that were made specially for YOU in Italy. DICK!
UGH, this is why I haven't been blogging, as I doubt anyone wants to listen to me bitch. [END OF BITCH-FEST-TRANSMISSION.]
7 comments:
Feel better kid!
Bitch away. You may not be a starving child in India, but you're certainly in a rough patch.
I wish I could resist, but as a dad, I can't: smoking cessation?
I consider it more righteous whinning - which means it's A ok.
Don't feel too bad about this.
I'm sure "John" will learn the hard way that life doesn't always turn out as planned especially once he enters the real world.
Who knows....eight years from now, he could be in your shoes, Justin! (No pun intended).
-Dean
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