“Excuse me! What is that photo for?”
She was shrill. She was hip. She was a bia.
“What? I dunno? It’s for nothing? What are you talking about?”
“I made that shirt.”
“Oh sweet! We love it!”
“No, what is that photo for? I made that shirt! WHAT IS THAT PHOTO FOR?”
LADY IT’S FOR NOTHING IT’S FOR THE FUCKING INTERNET IT’S SO I CAN SHOW THE INTERNET HOW TO GET SCRAPBOOKING SCISSORS AND TRACE PAPER AND CHARGE 107 DOLLARS FOR A SHIRT!
“Actually I was just gonna send these shots over to Forever 21 so they could mass-produce them at 19.99 each. That’s cool, right?”
“Yeah her camera is actually wired to a factory and right as she takes the picture the machines start printing them.”
Anyway that woman needs to pop a xanax and go jerk off to Paris Je Taime or something.
COOL SHIRT, RIGHT?
She like, cut little holes in it. Kinda silly. Whatevs. She can burn in hell. I’ll fan the flames. With this shirt. The holes with render it ineffective. Whatever.
