read last week’s installment: here.

It was around 8 o’clock when Joey Little Italy woke from his slumber (he hit the snooze button a total of four times) and jumped into his 2×2 shower which felt more like the inside of a space shuttle as it contained no tile and instead was a metal surface (heat board) which some self-proclaimed industrial designer on two floors above him installed.  Oh well, he was cheap like that.  He counted a few water bugs in the shower as he scrubbed using his Anthony Mens products and Kiehls conditioner.  He never skimped on products, which he deemed a necessity and liked his hair well manicured.

Back in his small 5×5 room with the cranky air-condition, Joey Little Italy threw on a pair of J. Crew pants and a blue Brooks Brothers shirt and specs (he was still pondering eye laser surgery).  He slipped out the second door of his shared place (rent $1150 a month/per person). Hey, he was living in Manhattan and Little Italy at that. Life was sweet.

His roommate Brian, was sound asleep. Joey only heard the fan on high to drown out the street noise.  The buzzing irked him. Joey had a bit of a hangover. Eh, nothing the three Motrin in his pocket couldn’t cure. He grabbed his soiled clothes to drop at the Chinese laundress. He would request powder Tide and ask his boxers be neatly folded.

Joey Little Italy ran down the stairs, past the narrow hallway with the bad florescent lighting with the splitting linoleum floor and on to the streets where the trucks were unloading produce, meat and booze.  It also smelled like trash. Luckily, his landlord was nowhere in sight.  It was tough always keeping up an Italian persona.  Sometimes he thought he might be giving up his character. He walked down to the 6 Train on Spring Street after picking up a bagel with cream cheese and a New York Post. 

He didn’t love his job but this was New York and a lot of people didnt’ love their jobs either.  He worked in the advertising slash marketing sector but worked more on the accounting side of things.  Truly a bummer, he thought himself more as a creative type. Oh well, pay your dues and Joey Little Italy could play by the rules; a true company man.

The subway came to a screeching halt and Joey stepped in as the doors closed behind him.  In five stops he would be at his destination.

He hoped work would fly by…for tonight would mark the first of a series of blind dates he had lined up.

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