I'm on a Highway to Hell

I'm on the desk watching a girl walk across the lobby.

"Look at that fucking hipster," I think. "Wearing big stupid 1985 mom sunglasses indoors, a pair of cowboy boots, some stupid mismatched sweater over an ugly skirt. Why do they do that to themselves? Why do hipsters and indie rockers go to such great lengths to make themselves ugly and childlike? Who the hell wants to be a kid? I didn't want to be a kid when I was a kid! I wanted to grow up so I could eat cake for breakfast and say bad words and drive cars and get into rated R movies. Screw that childhood innocence jazz."

"God, she's coming this way and...hey, wait a minute. She's walking sort of funny. You don't think she's... Oh shit. I've spent the last thirty seconds hating on a poor retarded woman. I am totally going to hell for that one."