The fight was over by the time I walked up. Somebody had
gotten punched and kicked and somebody else had their
feelings hurt. Security had to break it up and made everybody
involved put their clothes back and leave. It was a sad day
for this mob on the mean streets of La Brea.
You don’t want to fight an LA hipster over second hand clothes,
whose off 2 hours of sleep and a night filled with yola and pabst.
That’s like telling a drunk white guy dropping the n-bomb, “you’re
not black” after a Mac Mall show…In Everett. It’s really tempting,
but probably not a good idea.
The madness…
I saw the Starter Logo barely peeking out of a giant pile of
bullshit. Sure enough, it was the classic 49ers. For a buck. But
what was at first a for sure come-up to cop, turned out to
have a couple busted sleeves and some tar on one of the
shoulders. I reluctantly saved my dollar.
Mr. Rogers. Just a little too shmedium.
Mr. Rogers. Just a little too shmedium.
How could I not? This is insta party on cloth. The ribbon dangling
shows women that you have a sense of humor and don’t take yourself
too seriously. Yet the fact that it’s a tux shirt let’s them know that
there’s a good chance you’ll be able to afford a condo within the next
couple years.
On the other hand the red and purple sequined balloons
immediately put your sexuality into question by everybody at the party.
But this is fine. You know who you are. And for some reason, if women
think you’re gay it gives you free range to dry hump as much leg as
you can on the dance floor, thus loosening up their inhibitions. And
because you might be “gay” you get to slide on getting called a pervert.
They subconsciously think, “this is fine that he’s got a boner on my
thigh, he’s a gay.” And once you start making out at the bar and they
realize you’re Wilt Camberlin straight, they assume you’re super
secure in the bedroom. Plus, if you’re not a dancer you can lie and say
you made the shirt yourself, getting pretty much the same results.
The night is yours my friend, and you get to do whatever you want to it.
It’s 1999. Now party like it.
I haven’t really gotten over the velour days of the early 00’s.
There’s something that’s still dope to me, thinking back to the
lime green Sean Jean masterpieces you could find at Marshalls
1 out of every 12 times you went.
And if you’ve never tried on velour sweats without drawls,
you should still consider yourself a virgin. The combo is
like having a big vagina in your pants that moves with
every step you take, lightly blowing wind against your Alphonzo.
However, definitely don’t buy the pants at the dollar swap
meet. There’s a flu out there. Be safe.
