Sunday, September 5, 2010

Word of Fashion Advice--A Public Service Announcment

Dear Local Wannabe Gang Member,

You are under no obligation to take fashion advice from me, as my daily wardrobe consists of jeans and a graphic tee-shirt.  If I am feeling in a particularly festive mood, I'll gunk up my eyes with mascara before I plunk down to write, drop by the Post Office, or run to the local grocery store for milk, eggs, and Tastykakes!  (My addiction to the Koffee Kake CupCakes has been triggered by a recent marathon of reading many Stephanie Plum novels).  In short, I don't fancy myself being queen of the runway, however I am able to garner a few double takes as I am va-va-voom curvy. 

Thug life is hard, I am assuming.  Listening to my favorite rappers (yes, I listen to rap) if I understand correctly, thug life means that you have to fight your way to the top, letting nothing stop you, even though you had an emotionally-crippling childhood, full of drugged, deadbeat parents, with your best friend/brother/uncle/woman dying on your kitchen floor and never getting no respect cuz you were the smallest dude in the hood.  You survived because of your skills and raw talent; you are the fiercest, baddest, mutha-fludpucker around Thug Town.  

That being said, I appreciate your attention to detail.  I had a very mundane upbringing compared to you, and yet I can't coordinate/accessorize to save my life.  I applaud the flipped, stiff-brimmed baseball cap, the multiple golden chains of various lengths, the rock-sized faux diamond earring stud, the exceedingly large sports jersey and jeans, which apparently you borrowed from Andre the Giant.  (He called and would like his clothes back).  The fact that you are unable to walk two steps without having to hitch up the crotch of your pants should be an indication that you either need a belt or stop shopping in the Big and Tall section of the store.

To finish off the ensemble of bad-assness you have a mean scowl and children's rubber bands dangling from your wrist telling the whole world, "Watch out, don't mess with me.  I'll cut you!"

Yes, the Silly Bandz that encircle your wrists really strike fear and terror into my heart.  But instead of thinking, 'Oh my, maybe I should lock my car doors!' instead, I fear I will crash my car into a stop sign because I have just laughed myself into an asthmatic coughing fit. 

So Local Wannbe Gang Member, a piece of advice as you continue your bad-ass rise in Thug Town; if you are looking to strike fear into the hearts of people do yourself a favor and give the Silly Bandz a rest.  What you do with them behind closed doors is fine by me, but if I come across you and see you still wearing them, I can't promise that I won't laugh at you.