that was my british accent. fucking impeccable..dead on.
i got this part-time assistant job for a shoe designer! so fucking psyched about this. i had been eyeing these boots for a looooong time (extra o's indicate length) and waiting for the price to go down from 600 american dollars to a more reasonable amount. not happening. i decided to write the designer cheyenne since shes williamsburg based and ask if she could hook me up and also if she needed an assistant. she said not only do i have them in your fucking size (3 1/2 sexy) but i do in fact need an assistant. please come to my sexual little house over on south 1st tuesday and wear something low-cut.
i showed up in a tube-top and pleated teal girbeau jeans. she crumpled my resume, wiped her ass with it, burnt it with one of those novelty penis lighters from vegas and said youre hired, biatch.
psych that didnt happen..save for the penis lighter. anyways after she gets back from this leather convention (BDSM) in italy i start to work. and i got the boots wholesale, dude.
wait...does this mean im not unemployed anymore? oh shit. im just doing it for the shoes, gen x, i swear baby. im still cool. i still listen to the gin doctors. where are you going?