Knowing Their Bank Balance
Jesus, Lord, God, Almighty (whom I totally don’t fucking believe in) don’t let me see my balance. I’m just gonna blindly punch in my code and wait for the sweet whooshing of those two twenties coming down the chute. Fuck, fuck, fuck—just tell me when it’s over. I’m gonna push some buttons. Is the screen clear? Am I good? Fuck, I’m hyperventilating. All clear? Sweet. Let’s get wasted.
There are all sorts of things to like and dislike about this stuffhipstershate Tumblr. I’m more on the like than dislike if only because for some reason our long national tragedy concerning hipsterdom retains for me some of its car crash-rubbernecking appeal. I am no hipster. However, let me tell you, I have this experience basically every time I use the ATM.
