Don't you just hate it when adulthood gets in the way of life.
You haven't really missed much, just several thousands cups of coffee, half-smoked cigarettes, and a slightly alarming appetite for joints.
I'm still a lovesick New Yorker who's broke and happy in LA.
I now have a fancy new job. Still in fashion though so the people who surround me on a daily basis are insane, prone to meltdowns, and loud tantrums. Working with these people has the odd effect of making me more mellow- I think it puts the whole thing in perspective.
But then again, maybe its the pot I've been smoking.
People who work in fashion are a comedic lot. High strung individuals who use the word "cute" so often it makes you want to vomit a little in your mouth.
And of course everyone's convinced they belong to the small subset of people who get what fashions about. You certainly don't because you're a trashy proleat and didn't get the memo. No, you're so out of it no one even bothered sending you the memo because you simply don't matter.
I hate those fucking people because I like to hate. That and they're usually dressed in some ridiculous oversized hat and swear their lives on a line they can't afford anyway.
You have no idea how badly the people who work in fashion dress. Maybe they're over it, but grown men were wearing Uggs, carpenter jeans, and extra small t-shirts.
Oh yeah, let me help out my gay brethen and the newly minted metrosexuals- if a shirt is tight, and you're over the age of 16, then get a slightly larger t-shirt because its not sexy, just sort of desperate.
It's a fine line, people, but we need to keep vigilent.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
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