'sup. Another nice weekend here in the city, pretty mild weather, although nothing like last weekend. I felt like having some noodles, so my roommate, his date and I went over to Sushi Lounge down in the East Village.
I had the egg ramen with some friend dumplings as an appetizer and some spicy tuna rolls (well, in a doggy bag later on). It was pretty good, I must admit.
Apparently, though, later on I had some really bad gas that nearly peeled the paint off my roommate's bedroom walls. That didn't go over too well.
Look. I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to do? Yeah, dirty looks and kicking me out of the room is real tough, big guy (whatever). I didn't really want to hang out while they were in there anyway, watching movies and whatever else they do.
So the other day I was approached by a representative of a certain brand name clothing manufacturer -- sports apparel, to be precise -- who asked if I would become their spokesman.
Now the terms seemed fair, maybe even generous, and I have to admit I considered it. But I came to my senses and declined. I don't pimp out my body to no one. Least of all some big corporation.
I am what I am. I ain't about to become a media whore just 'cause of the markings on my back.