affliction.

it's not so much that i'm an asshole. it's more that you're an idiot. now if you are taking that personally instead of realizing that i am referencing the general public - then yes, you are an idiot. and no i don't want to dance with you. i don't even want you to buy me champagne. get lost frodo.

i'm finally getting over this ridiculous case of the plague that i had recently acquired and so i was out last night. surprise. first of all, are you serious right now about the way some of these guys dress? listen, buddy, button up your shirt, wipe down your forehead, and get a real haircut. you wanna leave a button or two open? fine by me. but please don't leave it open to the point where i can see that you pierced your belly button cause it was cool when you went to brazil that one time. and why in god's name is your shirt starched open? cotton is not supposed to lay that way. no really - stop with the starch. and why are you so greasy? it is not 100 degrees in here. wipe your face off cause it's blinding me. you have so much gel in your hair... wait, i mean paste. you have so much paste in your hair you just robbed some poor kid of being able to make a macaroni painting in art class tomorrow. you did not grow up gotti - so seriously about a quarter size of gel in the palm of your hand will do. even the gottis don't look good with the gotti haircut. goddamn, i wish i had my camera last night. i would have had enough pictures to fuel that hot girls with douchebags website straight into 2011.

and one last thing... this new trend of the tattoo art on the designer t-shirts. huh? it was cute on that one hot guy when the trend first started but last night i think i saw every tattoo emotion possible: affliction. desire. devotion. angst. are you kidding me right now? you look like a homo - take that shit off. and you want me to dance with your sweaty ass? are you retarded? i can't stop laughing because you dance like donkey kong. lay off the juice and give your arms a rest at the gym. you probably can't even touch your shoulders. lame. i would never want to take a YMCA picture with you - you would be a shitty M.

off to south beach with jamie tonight. camera is charged and ready. let's see if we can't find some good material.