It was so curious how she was always her weirdo self, yet was pretty popular in the Goth crowd. It reminded me of school – I had to study for hours to get an A on a test, while my friends would barely study and ace it. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I practiced my serious face for hours in the mirror only to be dragged around the club by Bill the Cat.
It was time to shop for a new, rad friend. A boss. One who would propel me to new social heights. And she had to be Goth; I made up my mind that my future was going to be black. Oh, and it was. Just wait. I met my best friend Sandy where the smokers... Continue Reading →
Brie hated smoking. She thought it was gross. Whenever she caught me smoking, she'd pluck it out of my lips and stomp it out. Thankfully I smoked generics. I tried and tried to convince her that smoking was trés chic. I pointed out smoking in the French films we watched together. Johnny Depp from “21 Jump... Continue Reading →
The only thing I thought of when Brie said "let's go clubbing" was how much I loved baby harp seals and how she found the one thing I wouldn't do to win her love. "Huh?" "The Premier. Everyone's going. It's tres chic." Yes, we overused the term. We were branding trailblazers. The Premier was a... Continue Reading →