But I digress. Any of you who know me, know that I ALWAYS digress. I won't apologize because to do so would be disingenuous. You should only apologize for things that you are really sorry for, and if you are really sorry, you shouldn't keep doing them. As you can see, I digressed again, so clearly, I am not that sorry.
Also, those who know me will vouch for the aforementioned judgyness. I believe the tangents have enough intrinsic charm to offset the overbearing judgmental nature of whatever point I am making somewhere amongst the ramblings. I personally don't see myself as judgmental at all; I just have taste and the need to express that taste. Spew taste? Ooze taste? Better than oozing pus, but not as good as oozing sexuality.
Another thing about me, I HATE to read what I have written, so I just don't: First Draft = Final Product. If I don't catch an error right away, I will never see it. Not ever. Sometimes those close to me will insist on fixing things, and I let them because by then I have lost interest. The point is, don't expect me to ever read my own blog. Only a loser would read this tripe. (I love tripe, by the way, and miss the tripe soup at old Leshkos at 7th and A. You know, it was about $1.25 for a nice-sized cup.)
I also do know English grammar and the correct use of a comma (I do prefer to use serial commas), but I also enjoy taking liberties to season my prose.
Now that I have given you the basics, my gentle reader (I assume you are gentle. Perhaps you enjoy stepping on kittens. How the hell am I supposed to know that? Do I look like Kreskin?) I will give you a little background on my clothing philosophy.
We live in a society where we are figuratively "up to our elbows" in other people. Here in New York the people are thick as flies, so they are everywhere you turn. You can't leave your home without seeing people, and, unless you are conveniently blind (I am not worried about offending the blind, since this is not a blog-on-tape. If you are reading this to a blind person as part of your community service, please skip over this whole part.) you have to look at them constantly. You can try looking down all the time, but then you are bound to start bumping into them and that is just plain rude. Wouldn't you prefer that all the people you have to see all day long were attractive? Nature provides a heap of variation when it comes to appearance, so not everyone can be pretty. We all know it's true, even though we know we shouldn't say it. You know your neighborhood sure has a lot of ugly people in it. The one thing people can do to counter any shortfall that their genetics may have dealt them is to make an effort to be well-groomed and well-dressed. We can't control our genes, and most of us can't afford surgery (and most plastic surgery gives you tranny-face, which is its own kind of unattractive. You know who you are and what you have opted to do to yourself. And you know damn well what tranny-face is, and that a: not all trannies have it, and b: plenty of real women get enough surgery to have it.) (Should I point out here that I also love parentheticals to excess, so you better stay sharp and focused when you are reading or you will be hopelessly left behind? You get that by now, right? Do you remember the sentence that is still going on? Perhaps you should look back now to refresh yourself.) but we can control how we dress and present ourselves to the rest of the world. I expect everyone to at least TRY so my day is just that much more pleasant. I therefore feel that I must do my best to make myself as aesthetically pleasing as possible to others. It's only fair. Wearing sweatpants and flip-flops says, "I've given up." If you have given up, the just own it and stay home.
|If you look like this, I don't want to know about it.|
Does that cover everything? Probably not, but I am getting bored writing, so you must be getting bored reading it.
On a final note: if you are having trouble following my convoluted style, I recommend using a highlighter on your monitor.