Almost Everyone is full of themselves, shit, or somebody else.
The people that are full of themselves will always ask what you do before they ask you their name. Before you answer, they will tell you what they do. Every answer you provide them with will be overshadowed by the response they were coming up with in their head, while you were talking, which relates directly to them, rather than anything you actually said. This is all contingent on the premise that they started talking to you in the first place, which depends entirely on how important you look.
The people that are full of shit eat only gluten-free, cruelty-free, free-range, expensive-as-Hell, organic, vegan food. They studied something liberal at NYU, and live in a loft in Williamsburg that looks like someone ripped it out of an Urban Outfitters catalogue, even though everything is from a flea market. They drink ironic beers, wear ironic clothes, and get ironic tattoos, which is fitting since the most ironic thing about them is that their parents are bankrolling the shit out of their bohemia.
The people that are full of somebody else are sluts. It is easy to be a slut in New York, since there are millions of people out and about every day, and those millions of people have millions of holes. To be fair, I actually have no problem with this, personally. But if you are looking to get married, you should consider moving to Nippletits, Utah right now.
Normally these articles end with some flowery epithet about how it’s all worth it, and that is probably what I would say if I was asked the question:
“Do you love living in New York?” without warning, on the street. The truth is, I still haven’t made up my mind yet.
I probably never will.
Have you?
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