It seems that everybody now has a pair of chucks, some slim jeans (worn out), an array of shirts with fruity colors and patterns, and a brightly colored zip-up racing jacket sporting a fat number in big block characters. Some guys have disheveled hair that appears as if it hasn't been washed in weeks. For Christ's sake, I saw one guy the other day in tight pants. It's queer. It's all a tragic revival of a blend between hippie apparel and fashion from "That 70's Show," which by the way is a criminal malfeasance in the world of television. But we shan't delve into that forbidden territory of digression.
Faggots.
At this point of time, I'm going to pivot the topic of my rhapsody to obnoxious white girls that dress like whores. There's a whole society of these god-awful girls who constantly pride themselves on the perceived beauty of their friendship with one another as well as that of their faces. Here I will provide a case study outlining the daily routine of the average preppy white girl. The day often begins at Starbucks, where the specimen often meets with a fellow bastion of promiscuity and enjoys a $5 frap with a large order of trivial schmoose. They then migrate to school in their Mercedes or BMWs and aggregate with others of their type, amassing in the hallways to discuss shopping or last night's hot tub gossip session. When the bell rings, they disperse into their various class schedules, occasionally massing into flocks of 4 to 10 persons into the AP English and the AP History classes, and aggrandize their distasteful antics much to the horrendous annoyance of those around them. Such antics include inside jokes which induce incessant giggling, discussion of various straps and strings, and petty intolerances. This is of course all done while vested in horribly promiscuous attire. Their sense of social decency is effectually lost in the visual treacheries of 6-inch skirts and tops that render more skin than what is natural. Over years they have formed a security system in which one alerts the other with an accusative rolling of eyes when the attention of some lad has wandered to the crevices of their sinfully exposed bodies. When the threat is acknowledged, there is a feigned panic in which she crosses her legs or pulls up her shirt, but internally she celebrates a superficial victory of egotism. After school is over, she prances over to a track meet or some other athletic shenanigan, after which she returns home to her computer and signs on to AIM or flits around with Myspace. Then comes the eruption of emotion. One of her friends (or she herself) experiences an emotional break down, and then, in tears, calls all up her society of egotistic sustenance for the assurance that she is a princess and one of the prettiest girls ever, both inside and outside. The weekday thus ends. Weekends are subject to screw loose outtings to the park, hot tup, or mall with the "flock".
Faggots.
1 Comments:
what i don't get is how being different can be a trend. people try to get funky colored "chucks" or checkerboarded ones so that other people notice they have the same, but slightly inferior, shoes. people are sellouts. i'm a sellout, rather recently though. but i don't hate it no matter how inauthentic and conformist i may seem. i now have an ipod, an american eagle shirt, about 5 pairs of flip flops, brown converse, and...a myspace.
i like your blog. i wouldn't have used the word faggots, but i like it.
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Anonymous, at 9:03 PM, November 17, 2005
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