I was twelve-year-old boy browsing in the magic store in the mall when the pretty, blonde, teenage clerk asked me if I wanted a demonstration of a trick.
I can’t remember anything about the trick because I spent the entire time staring down her shirt.
When she was done I sheepishly thanked her and extracted myself from the store.
I was embarrassed about what I’d done and I was sure she thought I was some kind of pervert.
Ten years later, I convinced myself that she might have been flattered.
Ten years after that, I stopped caring what she thought.
*sees Clusterstruck tag*
*feels guilt*
*drowns guilt in Bourbon*
*wakes up naked under car*
I wondered what the hell you were doing under there this morning. Sorry about the tire marks.
Happy bday!
~Joel
Thanks, Joel.
BTW we’re having a party Friday night (9ish). You’re invited.
Radical, it’s 50/50 I have standing commitments in LA but those might be canned due to extenuating circumstance.