It’s kind of amazing how little my face has changed in the past decade. (This is from maybe five years ago?)

Seriously.

Maybe that’s why [...]]]> OMG, Pretty Birds. A friend just emailed me this little gem. Another poor quality photo (he says a photo of a photo, no scanner available), but those ferocious eyebrows (and that mole!) are unmistakable. It is definitely me.

It’s kind of amazing how little my face has changed in the past decade. (This is from maybe five years ago?)

Seriously.

Maybe that’s why I am always cutting-slash-dying my hair: to change something up.

Anyways, I figured I’ve give you guys a little laugh, since it’s Friday and all.

Sometimes I sit for friends for their art- or they snap photos of me (because they like to torture me, because I hate to be in front of the camera), and they send me these little shots years later (because torture is never really finished if you’ve a mind to do it right).

When he sent this to me, the subject read: “Russian Hooker.”

Well gee, I was thinking I looked more Armenian here, but what the heck do I know?

BTW, isn’t it so weird to see a photo of me with hair after you’ve seen photos of me with my shaved head?

Him: My friend was enamored with you.

Me: Cool, I guess.

Him: He says you’ve got steez.

Me: Um, should I be offended? What the eff is steez?

Him: Uh, style with ease, silly.

Me: Well shoot, how should I know?

Him: You [...]]]> A conversation between friends, recorded for the sake of posterity and furthering fashion knowledge.

Him: My friend was enamored with you.

Me: Cool, I guess.

Him: He says you’ve got steez.

Me: Um, should I be offended? What the eff is steez?

Him: Uh, style with ease, silly.

Me: Well shoot, how should I know?

Him: You know everything.

Me: Clearly, I don’t.

Him: Be happy. It’s a compliment.

Me: I hate compliments.

Him: OK, be sad.

Me: Ok, sad face.

Him: But you’re smiling.

Me: I’m crying on the inside, asshole. I can’t have my mascara running in the middle of the cafe.

Him: Good point.

Me: I know.

Him: You make a lot of those.

Me: I know.

Him: See, you do know everything.

Me: You’re right, I guess.

Him: You guess?

Me: I guess.

So there you have it, RogueRanters, STEEZ = STYLE + EASE.

Conversation between Womb Buddy’s girlfriend, Becky, and I regarding what people wore in our middle school years:

Becky: “Oh, I never really noticed those things when I was younger- or now even.”

Me: “Ew, is there anything worse on a person, though? I mean, I’ll hang out with someone who wears cheap polyester rayon blend clothing. I’ll just [...]]]> Polyester is bad enough, but polyester rayon blend?

Conversation between Womb Buddy’s girlfriend, Becky, and I regarding what people wore in our middle school years:

Becky: “Oh, I never really noticed those things when I was younger- or now even.”

Me: “Ew, is there anything worse on a person, though? I mean, I’ll hang out with someone who wears cheap polyester rayon blend clothing. I’ll just make them change first.”

Probably, it’s just a hunch, but probably she hasn’t paid this much attention to what people around her are wearing just about ever. I have that affect on people. I turn what few good-hearted people are left in this world into scathing sartorial critics after hanging out with me for a mere couple of hours. It’s a fact I’m not ashamed of, and I don’t mind bad fashion or crazy fashion. No, no. I love it. I even aspire to it on occasion, because nothing, and I mean nothing, makes a statement like socks and sandals or FOB clothing. It’s visual candy for my hungry eyes.

As for poly-rayon blend garments, let’s be real, RogueRanters. I could write a whole freaking Encyclopedia on Swap Meet clothing, but the worst of all those eyesores stealing hanger space in poor unsuspecting citizens’ closets are definitely the poly-rayon blend tops all those cholas be “rocking” in the parking lots of crummy strip malls ALL OVER LA on a Friday night. You know the ones I’m talking about; the ones that highlight all those muffin tops beautifully with the awkward, clingy fabric and disgusting geometric prints. The ones that glow in the eerie light emanating from the giant Del Taco signs I know you’ve seen on your way to grab a midnight snackeroo.  (This is the place one generally finds cholas, and usually they’re getting into catfights with each other, clawing each others drawn on eyebrows off.)

The only thing worse than those tops are the cheap satin pants that are cut like denim jeans, but wrinkle like linen. The satin is usually so cheap it smells like fish. Seriously, have you ever smelled those pants?

Cholas wear these pants, too, BTW, and consequently, it makes them one of the top camel-toe offender groups in the nation. Which is totally saying something, because kankle-y White Girls everywhere have been chomping at the bit for this title every since Lindsay Lohan started stomping around in those trashy leggings of hers.

Which brings me to my next comment: ew, ew, and ew.

To the world out there, reading this, thinking I’m shallow and vain and a total waste of space, you’re probably right, but if you ever learn anything from this blog, let it be this: Cotton is your friend. (Cashmere, Angora, and Linen are your richer friends.)

Thanks. Bye now, and check your labels next time. Don’t be surprised to find out that there is a little Chola lurking in your closet. Poly-rayon blend is like herpes: once it’s been unleashed upon the world, it never goes away, and you finding yourself constantly staring and shrieking in disgust at the outbreaks. Yes, that’s right, I just compared cheap poly-rayon blend to oozing sores. IT IS THAT BAD. (<— OMG. click that link. You know you want to, and trust me, you won’t regret it.)

I know, I know. That’s stating the obvious. It’s just that I wish I had a dollar for every hack-friend of mine who’s come out with a leggings line these days. Let’s just say I’d mozy on over to the bar and buy everyone a round with the kind of money I’d [...]]]> Chances are, RogueRanters, if Lindsay Lohan’s done it, it’s probably on the verge of being out of style.

I know, I know. That’s stating the obvious. It’s just that I wish I had a dollar for every hack-friend of mine who’s come out with a leggings line these days. Let’s just say I’d mozy on over to the bar and buy everyone a round with the kind of money I’d be raking in.

But seriously, ladies & lads, is it really necessary to create ugly leggings with obnoxious prints and hawk it to all your facebook “friends” ?

No, it’s not. And let’s be real, there’s nothing out there that can beat these. Armor on denim leggings? Yes, please. Tacky gold pleather? Hell no.

Acne has you all beat. Plus, there’s enough badddd fashion in the world. Do we really need to let the unsavory characters from our lives have one more opportunity to wear snakeskin or worse!- giraffe print leggings? The answer is no, because I’m sick of cellulite ridden thighs trying painfully to hide underneath fug geometric print, high-rise leggings.

So dear friends, if I don’t support your leggings line, despite you trying to persuade me to do otherwise by telling me that in the future you’ll be coming out with leg warmers, beanies, and all things you can find at Forever21 for much cheaper and probably better looking (which is saying something, because I’m notorious for not liking Forever21), please don’t hate me.

It’s not that I don’t like you; it’s that I think your “designs” are tacky, tasteless, and you couldn’t pay me to wear them. I’m sorry, I’m just not the trend driven lackey you’ve come to expect from so-called “fashionistas.” (Anyone who calls themselves a ‘fashionista,” by the way, is probably from Orange County or the Inland Empire and thinks Uggs equal fashion-savvy. Although, I do lovingly use the word laden with sarcasm.)

Give me something timeless, something effortlessly chic, and I will promote the Hell out of it to my friends. Until then, don’t bother.

Bye now.