Oh, we were at One Sylabble Noun, it’s this new club in the
Meat Packing District. Way better than Chelsea. I fucking hate going to Rane in Chelsea. Oh my god. Seriously, so many hot chicks. New York is way better than Atlanta. I love it. It’s just like hitting
me how great it is living here.
They have
these trains, which I am now completely and totally on top of memorizing. In fact, I memorize all obscure public
transportation routes just to out-city snob all those bridge-and-tunnel
freaks. So bourgey. Yeah like Bourgeois, dude, but you know,
douchier. What tools.
Anyway, so
we went to a show last night. No, dude,
musical theatre is not gay, this is New York and we do cultured things here. Hello, I was out in the meat packing district
last night? At one syllable noun? Dude I threw
up on Jay-Z’s shoes, that’s how fucking VIP it was. So we’re at this show. No I didn’t go with girls, I was there with
Craig, dude. Anyway so we totally snuck
these forties in and drank em during the show dude! So awesome! And these little kids were sitting next to us and we kept making funny
faces at each other. I know,
hilarious. The dad was sorta creeped out
though and kept looking at us with narrowed eyes. I know, right? Bourgey. He’s probably from, you know, a suburb…or something.
What’d you
mean I’m from a suburb? Maybe back when
I was bourgey and all, in college in a different city. I’ve been here for five years already. Well, that’s what it feels like. To be honest, dude, these past six months
have just flown by. I’ve been so busy
taking trains 1 through 4 and bragging about how I know how to get to different
neighborhoods the fastest that I haven’t even had time to go bang some hipster
chicks out in Brooklyn.
Yeah, it’s full of hipsters dude. Like, way worse than Atlanta. Atlanta was ghettttttoooooo. Dude that’s the
crazy thing! Even the minorities here
are different. I met some Puerto Rican
guy that actually spoke Yiddish. Even the poor are mulit-lingual! How nuts is that. Well, I mean, he didn’t really speak
English. But it’s New York City man, you don’t need English
when you can read a subway map!
So many
chicks last night, dude. Oh, you should
come see this band I just discovered, they only play in this certain
neighborhood, but they’re really good. What do you mean you’ve never been to that certain neighborhood? Oh my god, dude, it’s the new Noho. It’s like Soho merged with Washington Heights and converted to Judaism and then switched to a Catholic Central Park West and
now had a sex change. Exactly,
dude: tons o chicks.
Well you’re
invited. I’ve got the tickets at will
call. No my mom bought em for me. No, I’m a little tight. No I don’t have a credit card, I just have
hers, dude. What’d you mean why? I live in Manhattan. I’m a god amongst 20-something singles and I know club promoters? Of course my job covers it. Of course. But it’s an investment, and I have to get in now, dude. These networking connections will pay off in
spades once I’m established. I don’t
have time to save money, or rack up debt on some plastic piece of crap 2k limit
credit card. You save money, suburbia. Soccer mom. Go drive across some
more suspension bridges, Metro-North. Yeah, fine. I’ll just go to that
show by myself. Fine! Who needs you, bourgie douche! Now do I take the six train or the five to
get back home? Oh fuck it, where’s a
cab? I hope they take credit cards.
By Michael J. Weingarth
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