Casual Saturday, or I'm going to hell (2011)

I woke up panicking that I was abysmally late for work. Fortunately, it was Saturday, so I fell back into oblivion past noon. It doesn't seem to matter if I act like a monk, or a maniac the night before, I still hate getting up.

After my beauty sleep, I ran four miles. Not sure if I run because I want to or if I'm just going through someone else's motions. The inner burner stirs briefly and I consider running in my lederhosen, or some other brazen fyuk you to the social constructs of the world.

Instead, I meet up with one of my blue blood buddies and go shopping in the Marina. I'm a bleeding hypocrite and should be shot like a stray dog. We walk into a swanky store that reeks of leather and pretension.

I hand the teller a wet prosciutto sandwich and proceed to spend a year's worth of a third-world-person's salary on a pair of pants. In fact said pants were probably stitched together by said third-world-person. I remember an old fraternity poster that read:

"Recess is for pussies". So we've established that I am going to hell.

I try on a few different pairs and all of them work just fine. Choosing between three almost identical pairs, minus some tiny difference in width or bagginess induces mild anxiety and an almost a welcome gag reflex. My body is finally aligned with my mind.

I quickly stuff a pair into the hands of the greedy teller, swipe away my AMEX and stumble outside grasping for air.