You sell watches at that Gallery kiosk like it ain’t no thang, peddling your wares in the dim light of the Market East Trainwreck, as though Seasonal Affective Disorder was not a year-round thing there. We’re pretty sure you’re from Ukraine, and we’d like to give you the time of day. The first time we laid eyes on you, you were trying to deal a fake Rolex to a hideous cow, and at first we thought you a scumbag. After all, you’re a tweaker-thin white boy who has to realize that wristwatches are accessorized by dandyism and nothing more. It’s no question that you’re slick, though, as you romantically insist that cell phone time-checks are not the way. We would even call you Cogsworth in bed. So listen, if you’re not busy one of these days what say we grab an Icee at the Big K snackbar? Until then, we’ll be watching you.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 27th, 2007 at 3:38 pm.