Walking up to the office yesterday morning, there's a slick Williamsburg-lookin' dude fine-tuning his metrosexually slicked-back hair in the window of the scooter store downstairs. He's dressed in expensive "casual" gear, pale leather jacket and designer jeans. His look is cool, determined, about to march into an office and take over the world
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Key phrase being, "I THOUGHT".
Everyone has feelings like that, man. I really enjoy watching sorostitutes fall on the ice b/c they seem allergic to boots with treads. But I don't laugh at them [out loud,] and I help them up. But then I go back home and tell Judd, and we fucking LOSE it.
In my book, you're only a mean person if you make someone else feel shitty. And you did none of that.
Life's no fun if your conscience is constantly policing your brain. :)
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