Monday, May 17
Ain't Talking 'Bout Style...
anything slightly different in their closed world. And it allowed me to segue into an update I started weeks ago, and here it is.
Fashion is the biggest load of bollocks in the Universe.
I myself have never been one for spending either massive amounts of time or money on my appearence. All my favourite pairs of trousers are products of dodgy market stalls, frayed round the bottoms, and usually falling off. All but one T-shirt I own is black, and they are all festooned with band logos, offensive slogans, or nothing at all. My hair is either forced crudly into spikes with enough gel to armour plate a small car, or wrapped by a beanie, which it flares out from.
I am the one the fashionatas hate. And I don't care.
I will always be dressed how I want to, and not how either some marketing executive, or some twat in a white hoodie (with no offense to sane people in white hoodies, you're both very nice people) wants me to. I refer, obviously, to the Great Cunt itself, the one the entire RL Less is More crew reviles with a passion, as derided by Johnny on Friday. Apparently, I am filthy, dirty, and lower than life itself. But I have integrity, which is better than a pair of tight-fitting jeans anyday.
Plus, the cost of being seen in "the right clobber" isn't just pathetically exorbiant on this end of the production. Its been covered by the bleeding hears infinate times, but I for one am quite happy without wearing a T-shirt made by the toil of fifty underpaid Vietnamese slave boys. To have a soul suffer so you look "cool" is so uncool you wouldn't believe it.
There's enough shit to get through in this life without worrying about what other people think about how you dress, whether what music you listen to, etc. Find something you're comftable with, and stick with it. Don't bow down to the close-mindedness, fight it. Preferably with a knife and a knuckle duster, but verbally if you like.
Right, that's enough ranting for the day. So, any notices?
Nope?
Well, that makes for a short update then.
Right, time to go back to your horny daydreams. Knowing the demographics of my readership, I'm not wrong at all.
Fashion is the biggest load of bollocks in the Universe.
I myself have never been one for spending either massive amounts of time or money on my appearence. All my favourite pairs of trousers are products of dodgy market stalls, frayed round the bottoms, and usually falling off. All but one T-shirt I own is black, and they are all festooned with band logos, offensive slogans, or nothing at all. My hair is either forced crudly into spikes with enough gel to armour plate a small car, or wrapped by a beanie, which it flares out from.
I am the one the fashionatas hate. And I don't care.
I will always be dressed how I want to, and not how either some marketing executive, or some twat in a white hoodie (with no offense to sane people in white hoodies, you're both very nice people) wants me to. I refer, obviously, to the Great Cunt itself, the one the entire RL Less is More crew reviles with a passion, as derided by Johnny on Friday. Apparently, I am filthy, dirty, and lower than life itself. But I have integrity, which is better than a pair of tight-fitting jeans anyday.
Plus, the cost of being seen in "the right clobber" isn't just pathetically exorbiant on this end of the production. Its been covered by the bleeding hears infinate times, but I for one am quite happy without wearing a T-shirt made by the toil of fifty underpaid Vietnamese slave boys. To have a soul suffer so you look "cool" is so uncool you wouldn't believe it.
There's enough shit to get through in this life without worrying about what other people think about how you dress, whether what music you listen to, etc. Find something you're comftable with, and stick with it. Don't bow down to the close-mindedness, fight it. Preferably with a knife and a knuckle duster, but verbally if you like.
Right, that's enough ranting for the day. So, any notices?
Nope?
Well, that makes for a short update then.
Right, time to go back to your horny daydreams. Knowing the demographics of my readership, I'm not wrong at all.
