This morning I was sitting on the F train to work around 10 or 11 and this douche bag gets on looking like every other kid who lives in the east village off of their parents money with their expensive jacket that's meant to look worn and scraggly hair and a pair of fucking sunglasses indoors and I said in my head "come on guy, do you really need to try so hard to be cool with your glasses inside and your store-bought rock appeal?" and I got off the train and let it slip from my mind because it happens a few times a day. Then at lunch I'm flipping through one of the Vogue's that my boss casually leaves on the break table in piles to encourage us to constantly be aware of what's fashionable and BAM there's captain douchemaster in a 7 page spread with agyness dean. Apparently I was sitting across from the strokes guitarist, albert hammond jr.
Moral of the story: the strokes suck and so does that guy.
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