bonjour,
today as I sat basking in the humidity, on the large marblesque terrace in front of the shiny babel of my employer, standard life, I was mocked by two unruly characters. I was sitting in my "casual friday" jeans, sipping water, and a couple of squeegee types with dreads and a lingering smell identified me as perfect slaving-for-the-man-part-of-the-problem-soulless mocking fodder.
ouch
1 comment:
they're right, you know. it hurt cause it's true :( I don't have the balls to be a squeegee kid...but they're closer to the answer than the casual jean clad corporate drone, bolstering the institution by whoreing real talent for the money pimp. we're all whores...but the squeegee kids are nobody's bitch. a lingering smell is a small price to pay for freedom in the end.
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