I think Im gonna cancel my whopping $15.00 womens fashion magazine subscription. It occurs to me that its entirely pointless to peruse 473 pages of sticks with heads sporting thousand dollar ensembles. I havent been able to fit in clothing that size since I was SEVEN. Who spends $680.00 on shoes? Why does a dress that looks and fits like cardboard cost $4,300.00? Truthfully, I would be terrified to wear this stuff. I drop edible things on myself; I snuggle with a pug whose head explodes randomly in quasi-sneeze fits with mucous. I cannot hold a Starbucks cup without dripping coffee down my hand to my shoes even with the stupid little green plastic thingy thats too short to be a stirrer still stuck in it. I have a Nala Newfoundland hair permanently attached to the roof of my mouth that I havent been able to successfully remove since November, but its persistence doesnt stop me from randomly trying to fish it out with my own fingers. This, of course, results in the same solution that I resort to when I wipe food off a three year olds face before I secure the location of a napkin; I wipe it on my pants like the other flunkies who havent achieved annoying Gwyneth Paltrow perfection. IMAGINE the horror of wiping yogurt, kool aid, or chocolate on your pants by habit, and realizing that the $5,938.00 endangered species Moroccan yak wool is permanently ruined because it cant even be dry cleaned. Why arent the Dalai Lama, Steven Seagal, and Richard Gere upset about this ridiculous injustice? All the money wasted on these designer frocks could free the Tibetans by purchasing and housing them in Donald Trumps portion of Atlantic City. Are you even allowed to emit sweat into these clothes? Who REALLY wears them? Phil McCracken, Stan Breedlove, and Jennifer Osborne Wykoff, I politely tagged you in the end of this post so youd be forced to get through it. Jennifer...arent you glad I have Mondays off for deep thoughts?
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 16:45:45 +0000
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