As far as fashion crimes go, I have a few ideas to add to the book of no-no’s. Earlier today in lecture, I was occupying myself with every activity possible to avoid absorbing anything about the Women’s Suffrage Movement of the 1850s, and my eyes landed on a chick in a denim jacket. Unless you are a lumberjack named Paul in the forest and you are in the midst of chopping down a giant pine for firewood, there is no acceptable reason to be sporting a denim jacket of any kind.
Same goes for denim shorts.
Scrunchies should be against the law. I remember in fifth grade when everybody had a Tommy Hilfiger scrunchie. I had a Tweety Bird one. That is embarrassing in itself. The point is, scrunchies are unsightly and ‘they’ should have ceased their production years ago; perhaps decades.
I have seen two individuals in the past week wearing MC Hammer pants, both of which were overweight, late 20s/early 30s males. One pair was a blinding purple, while the other was zebra patterned. I would go ahead and say that The E! Fashion Police would have cuffed these freaks immediately had they been present. But since they weren’t, I openly mocked them myself.
Crocs. I am tempted to leave it at that and provide no further commentary, but I’ll go on. Crocs are quite possibly the grossest invention to ever occupy the human foot, besides athlete’s foot of course. “But they’re so comfortable!” I have stepped into one before, I know they are delightful, but you are in danger of physical assault if you wear them in public. They are hideous. Go melt them in the nearest fireplace. Immediately.
Same goes for high-waisted pants. Unless you’re somebody’s aunt and you also wear tacky red lipstick.
I want a Chicago Bulls t-shirt.
I have a sneaky suspicion that my roommate has been eating our toilet paper. I feel like I replenish the roll every single day, and by the next morning, I mosey in to take my morning tinkle to find a cardboard roll with a single scrap of toilet paper mournfully hanging from it. I will get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.
WELL, needless to say, there will be no more notes after this weekend, because I will have perished in an alcohol-related accident of some sort. So until then, it’s been real, and say no to denim.
P.S. Headphones is sitting directly across from me in the lab right now. Ha. She is wearing no headphones. This is awkward.
“I hate roast beef, but if it comes from Arby’s I’ll masturbate with it.”