New York City is a gender-confused mess full of hipsters and losers that have absolutely no idea what they believe in or who the shit they even are. Occasionally you'll find some winners, but they always live in a random hellhole off some sketchy train line that you never want to visit. NYC is kind of a bastard, but it's hard not to love it. We break up CONSTANTLY, but we're both so into the drama that we always get back together.
The other day, NYC punched me in the face. I was so shocked I didn't know what to do. I just laughed and walked away. My face still hurts, but I do have a black eye, which looks pretty awesome.
NYC is a shapeshifting demon and I never know what it's going to look like. On the day that it punched me in the face, it came at me in the shape of a cracky black lady outside Key Foods. She was wailing on about crack and how evil child services took her kids away even though she was OBVIOUSLY capable of taking care of them herself (I bet). She was cracking around right in front of the exit and I couldn't get out.
I wasn't having it.
I very kindly asked her to vacate ma space.
Bitch wasn't having it.
At this point, no one was having it, so with the strength of a lion and the swiftness of a cracked out eagle, she swung her crack-hungry fist right into the side of my face. Crack! (I had to)
I was pissed, but I don't know. Something about this place just makes my heart tap dance. I can't help it!
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