I got my hand caught in an elevator door today, and the passengers inside did not hit “doors open” right away, preferring to leave me stuck and twisting in pain. Sneaker ‘n’ Suit wearing Bastards.
I can’t wait until I move to New York, and can get my hand stuck in more affluent places. Actually I was thinking of moving on to my former home town, Jersey City. Then the Creator would truly have the last laugh, as I always swore that city is a hell to which I would never return. Actually, it’s kind of cute and has a movie theater now. So they say.
The main thing I need to get famous, and stop drinking flavored coffee in this air conditioned facsimile of purgatory. But my Boston sell-by date has not yet arrived. For now, my immediate plans include making boys wear makeup, and making paintings of them. Oh and eating another cookie.