Not A Fashion-Blog.

I swear my blog isn't turning into a social critique on fashion,
nor am I vying for a spot on the next season of Rachel Hunter's Style Me.

However.

WTF is up with the recent trend of gardening clogs. You know what I'm talking about, the solid colored, plastic hunks adorning everyone's feet these days.
I've seen kids as young as three and ladies my grandmother's age wearing them. They're the new unisex jelly shoe or Ugg... and they're definitely ugg...ly. There is nothing stylish about them. Sure, you can have a pair in every color under the rainbow and supposedly they're comfortable as hell; it doesn't mean that you should try to coordinate them with anything but your gardening outfit or wear them anywhere outside of a garden!

As I see it, there's a factory in the distance,
it's chugging out these mothers as quickly as it can.
A gigantic machine shitting them out in perfect form.
Someone dumping a vat of color into the machine everyonce in a while.
Poop. Poop. Poop. Shoe. Shoe. Shoe. Blue. Blue. Blue.
Poop. Poop. Poop. Shoe. Shoe. Shoe. Green. Green. Green.
... into infinity.

Wear Whatcha Like!

Despite a bit of rain, the weather here in New York has been so lovely the last couple of days. We're getting to the last hurrah of summer, so jeans are replacing the "manpris*," and I've even had to break out a light jacket.

Allison and I are heading to Chicago for six days to catch up with friends and family. Since last I've been there, two of my friends are engaged and my brother now has a fancy pants internship. I'm looking forward to a midwest paced weekend.

So, I've had a couple of requests from friends to start blogging about music more frequently. As I'm not going to be taking classes this fall, I've given myself a self-imposed curriculum of two record reviews a week. Once I get back into the swing of things, I'm going to work on getting some of them published elsewhere.

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*Manpris: (n.) Capri-Pants for men.
I don't know why I get so much grief about wearing long shorts, or "manpri," as it were. I have pasty-white, oh so hairy and veiny legs, which I'm not too fond of showing off.
I will not go the route of AA short-shorts, and most others are just bleeech. Too wrinkly. Too many pockets. Granted, if I wore shorts that were three sizes too big for me and hung them off my ass, I probably would still get shit, but it'd be a different type of shit. Whatever. I like my manpris. Kiss my ass. I probably get grief because I react like this.