14 July 2010 at 10:14 pm
I'm in total yoga zen mode, just existing amongst the rainbows of my chakra and hoping the same for everyone else, totally hippiefied out of my mind, and this girl is walking toward me.
She is falling out of her mustard slit-to-the-navel top, her straight-ironed and blond highlighted hair flailing about her face, her size 1 jeans riding low on her hips, wearing Candies.
"I'm sorry," she says. I cock my head.
"It's just, my boyfriend--"
This girl, she needs a ride, just up the street, to her friend's tattoo parlor, her boyfriend just dumped her in the middle of the street, "because he's jealous," she says when I ask why.
He could very well have a reason to be jealous: this girl is gorgeous, and has lower self-esteem than myself, and that situation lends itself to cheating on your rich boyfriend.
"Wow, that's so cliche," I really do say to her, after she explains all this to me.
mod l post-mod
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.