It's Not So Bad After All

Tonight when I was on my way to meeting up with my friend Raf, who's in town for the next couple of days for work, at his hotel on 54th & 6th, I walked past Flasher Dancers. As I walked past the club, I saw a stripper walk out of the parking garage next door with the most depressed look on her face, like she was walking in front of a firing squad. How could I tell she was a stripper? Because she could have easily rested her chin on her chest, duh!

I don't think I have ever looked THAT out of it when I drag my tired ass out of bed to get ready for the day. My discontent with life subsided for that one brief moment as I realized that sitting in front of a computer for 12 hours a day still beats giving lap dances to dirty old men in sweatpants. It's all relative, right?