My 22-year-old brother told me he’s thinking of opening up a de-tattoo parlour, where hip fashion people of the past few years will be able to go to in order to get rid of all these tattoos they got when they were still hip fashion people. I reckon we’re gonna be rich.
Perfection. He arouses what I can’t decide I want… a perfect gentleman, a bad boy, or a saint. With a guy like that you get everything. Take home to mother with long sleeved turtle-neck and mittens; for the holidays, then party like a rock star for New Years, something terribly spiritual…silent retreat. Woof.