Extremely Perishable

Just like the Titanic, my virginity and acid-wash jeans.

4,636 Plus One

Every gay man in Manhattan was at Marc Jacobs, yesterday. There was a denim sale -- 60% off all jeans and jackets. As you can imagine, things got a little nasty: "A Marc by Marc pant leg poked my eye out!"

Anyway ... I was across the street getting doped up on cupcakes. I have to line my frame with enough fat to get me through the winter. And, by "winter," I mean "finals." And, by "finals," I obviously mean "the worst week of my collegiate life."

In other news -- I found myself missing my brother this weekend. Usually I try to forget he exists because it's easier, that way, to deal with the fact that he has forgotten that I exist. But it wasn't happening yesterday. I called him and had a one-sided conversation with him. Halfway through, he gets up to answer the door at his apartment and I hear people come in, I hear talking, laughter ... Cutting to the chase: he never came back to pick up the phone. He left me waiting on the other end of the line; all I could do was hang up.

This is now the 4,637th time that he has made me feel like a chump.

Many more to come, I'm sure.
« Home | Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »

» Post a Comment