Pretentious_Gut Feeling_The Worst Day of My Life_My Name Is Not Shirley
Catalog Guide:
Pretentious
The leather-bound menu card was starting to show signs of my sweaty fingerprints. My knuckles were slowly going white from the exertion of trying to sit still and not run around crying, 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.' My friend watched me anxiously. I did not want to let her down as I had so many times before, embarrassing her in public with my actions or words. I felt beads of sweat pouring down my face like I was standing in a lukewarm tepid shower and knew that it was any second before my make-up was going to mingle with that perspiration. I needed to calm down before I started to look like a distre...
Gut Feeling
The last thing I remembered before the fall was the look of absolute horror on my roommate‘s face. I almost felt bad about it, but honestly, who wakes up at 6am on a Sunday morning? It‘s not my fault he decided to go on a run at the brink of dawn when most people come home from a night out. That‘s what I‘d been doing- trying to sober up enough to enjoy the last cigarette before bed in my usual spot on the little balcony in our run-down apartment. It‘s become tradition, really, to look out at the city from the second floor of the building, straddling the thick railing on a small rug draped over...
The Worst Day of My Life
I didn’t want to go anywhere that day. But I had given in to my friend Betty’s bullying insistence and had promised to join her Armenian group on their trip to Atlantic City. They needed one more person to get a special deal fromwww.onedoor.cc one of the casinos. According to Betty, if I didn’t go with them, I might spoil their whole lives because, who knew, one of them might win big, and it would be my fault if they missed the chance for unearned riches. I didn’t know anyone in that group other than Betty, but I was stuck traveling on the bus with them. I had tried to get out of it at the last minute, but ...
My Name Is Not Shirley
My Name Is Not Shirley“Houston, we have a problem.”“Dammit, Junior, stop calling me Houston! Surely you must know by now that drives me nuts.”“Sorry, Dad, but then you’ve got to stop calling me Shirley.”Reginald Q. Barnes, a/k/a Reggie, a/k/a Junior, made the Prodigal Son look like a pre-transformation Scrooge. Just two weeks after Dean Seymour’s admonition at matriculation that “your business here is learning”, Junior had set his own course- consume inordinate amounts of alcohol and lay as many bets and women as possible. Houston, a/k/a Mr. Harold Barnes, a/k/a Dad unwittingly financed the en...