The GQ

Do you really think, “I’m all GQ? Do you know what GQ most “typically” looks like? Come on man, don’t say shit you have no clue what it means. You may have meant it as compliment but none was taken. In fact, I was offended. Your tone was of a mocking nature, although I don’t think you were trying to mock me. It’s just language and tone. That’s why we miscommunicate and misinterpret. Why are you trying to have a conversation with me in the bathroom anyway after washing your hands and touching your dick? Mind your own fucking business you nosy slut. That’s right I said Happy Halloween, I’m dressed up, although it was almost Thanksgiving. I said you should see my underwear, which you did laugh at. When I asked you do know what GQ means, you suddenly forgot how to speak English.

That’s what happens over at 82nd and Johnson Creek. You get the truest version of what every “American” looks like which is the same and how every “American” thinks which is shallow. So when I’m wearing converse shoes, jeans, 2 long sleeve collar shirts, a cardigan, and sunglasses, and you call me GQ. Man, I was going for grunge, but I’m sure you don’t know what grunge is. GQ is hot but that ain’t me, thanks anyway. You going to play lottery today, or shopping at the mall and grocery store? You GQ man, with your black rain jacket, blues jeans, and white tennis shoes. You look the same as everyone walking in this store.