The Wee Democracy

i bought a suit.

ok, i didn't buy the suit, my mommy did, but i helped pick it out. and when i say, i helped pick it out, i mean i was helped by the nice man from Nordstrom, and again, my mom. it's a pimp suit too. as riqui says, a suit that says "feel the sting of my pimp hand, bitch!". it says that. but i'm more like a corporate pimp. like keith david's character from Requiem for a Dream. maid marion...welcome...hehe

my uncle rick is coming by later today, to instruct me on the fine art of business talk. yes, we will discuss things such as whether or not i should order a drink, salary negotiations (if that's even appropriate) who knows what else. but he's a reservoir of information. a veritable stack of knowledge and intellect. i got a lot of respect for him.

much like all the other ricks or riquis i know. rickflo is a funny guy, so that's good for entertainment's sake. rick V, too. he entertains me to no end. plus, he's very useful for all sorts of advice and words of wisdom. he's also maybe the most patient person i've ever met, and i've met some patient ass people. and uncle rick, well, i've already said all there is to say about him. he is the one who pushed us for buying a suit, as opposed to a blazer pant combo, which was a bit too remeniscent of my days at St. Mark's. rick v knows what i'm talking about.

anywho, i'm being pressured to get off the computer, so i shall oblige. ciao



feeling: a rare burst of something that may only be described as a modicum of confidence
thinking of: shaving, and popping a nasty whitehead (and riqui's no doubt scowl of disapproval at the level of information i share)
song of the day: question - the old 97's