i'm a neon sign and i stay open all the time
today i'm rockings the Slightly Greasy East Village Look to the degree that strangers stop me on the street and ask me for directions to the tattoo parlor. i got new boots. i've got on black jeans that are at once too tight and falling off of me. i have the black jacket and the various black layers beneath it. but most importantly, i am wearing four inch long dangling silver earrings which spell out "MASTER".
i wish there were some way i could get away with these earrings at the office. maybe on one of those mysterious gun moll missions the boss man now has me running all the time, like "take this locked suitcase uptown to the Plaza Hotel and hand it over to my associate in the bar. if she doesn't show, leave it with the concierge and ask him to deliver it to Cho Cho." do tax refund applications really require this degree of secrecy?
ah, my double (quadruple?) life. as a suspicious-looking village dweller who is actually a sugary sweet college co-ed, and a high-finance upstanding worker bee on wall street who is probably inextricably mixed up with the Mob.
i wish there were some way i could get away with these earrings at the office. maybe on one of those mysterious gun moll missions the boss man now has me running all the time, like "take this locked suitcase uptown to the Plaza Hotel and hand it over to my associate in the bar. if she doesn't show, leave it with the concierge and ask him to deliver it to Cho Cho." do tax refund applications really require this degree of secrecy?
ah, my double (quadruple?) life. as a suspicious-looking village dweller who is actually a sugary sweet college co-ed, and a high-finance upstanding worker bee on wall street who is probably inextricably mixed up with the Mob.