1 year ago
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
You know, initially I had the brilliant (or so I thought) idea to write this post entirely in limericks. You know, "There was an old lady in Prague/Whose legs were the size of a log/She put on pink boots/And heard hollers and hoots/Saying 'Damn that old bitch is a hog!'"
However, then I realized that while I take pride in my ability to write a limerick about just about anything or anyone, there's no way I could get through this post without using the word "cankles," and not even I can think of something that rhymes with cankles. Plan failed.
But really, old lady. I will give you credit for the fact that, as this picture just shows your legs, you don't appear old at first glance, but trust me on this one. You are making so, so, so many poor choices here with your footwear.
First, you are wearing boots with a (relatively) short skirt. Which is it, old lady? Is it cold enough that you need boots or warm enough to wear knee-length skirts? Make up your damn mind!
Second, you are wearing pale pink boots with a reddish-pink skirt. Even if you looked out the window and decided "It looks pretty warm... but my feet might get cold!", why would you then pick two colors so gratingly close to matching... but not quite? Just because two colors both appear somewhere in your cardiovascular system does not mean they match.
Third... fur. On your boots. As if the incredibly stumpifying place they hit your calf isn't bad enough, you had to poof them out even further with the remains of a cute animal. Tacky, tacky, tacky. Three strikes... you're out!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
So apparently someone decided that it was okay to wear extra shiny lamé coats. I'm not so sure who that person was, but apparently everyone in Prague got the memo.
And this poor creature took took the whole lamé thing to the next level with a jacket AND a purse. Honey, what the hell are you thinking? That is an absolutely terrible idea. It just screams, WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Okay, so this video is fairly old, and I've been watching it since summer 2007... but I still feel like there aren't enough people in the world who know just how truly amazing it is. I mean, haven't any of you wondered where classic phrases like 'fuzzy mimosa' and 'busy furlow' come from? Haven't you ever questioned the origins of the 'snackateria?' Some of life's greatest mysteries can be solved by seeing, and understanding, Miss Brenda Dickson. All of you should watch this, and memorize it. Let your life reflect Brenda's. And yes, I'm still drunk. Kudos, me!
Friday, December 5, 2008
What can be said about the Italians and their inexplicable love of all things shiny and vinylesque? In one of my dear, dear classmate's recent papers, he wrote that a professor was "clothed in the most European of fashions," and unfortunately meant that in a good way. To which I would respond... have you met many Europeans? These are the people who still find fanny packs socially acceptable, for god's sake!
Initially I was going to go on and on with some fanciful story about how this old Italian biddy was actually the conductor of the Fug Express, a magical train much like Tom Hanks' Polar Express, except with less magic and whimsy and more tacky faux-Fendi sunglasses and inexplicably overlong manicures, but then I realized that there's really nothing to be said about the shape of this hat. It's not a newsboy cap, it's not a conductor's hat, it's not a helmet (despite the fact that I think if you threw a quarter at it you'd hear a metallic clank)... the only thing it really is is just downright ugly.
I also questioned the necessity of the inexplicably large gold chain, until I realized that this isn't just a hat. It's a weapon! Clearly, when this Blood accidentally walks into Italian Crip territory, she doesn't need to worry. She can just detach her giant gold chain to whip some mad bitches into shape, knowing her shiny, unattractive hat will deflect any bullet that comes her way. It's like those canes that secretly have swords in them that seemingly everyone in period action films has, except much less cumbersome and much more tacky. You go, Blood Italiano. Show those Crips that horrible fashion sense doesn't mean you can't cut a bitch.