Dude and Dude: Fashion
My "farewell to Bloggerparty" post.
* * * *
“Woooo hoooo!!!”
“Not right in my ear, dude! I can hear you already! Or, I could, once.”
“Sorry, dude. I kinda lost it for a second. But look at this, you’ll see why.”
“A fashion website? Dude, you have lost it.”
“But what fashions, eh dude? Ah huh ah huh ah huh …”
“Don’t make me get the Gatorade bucket, dude. Reminds me of this chick I knew once …”
“You knew a chick? How did that happen? And how come you never told me?”
“You expect me to tell you everything? Not gonna happen. Especially if it involves chicks. Or ain’t you heard about ‘three’s a crowd’? Yeah, I had a chick once. Before you came around and scared ‘em all off. Used to work at Victoria’s Secret.”
“Victoria’s Secret!?! Hooo …”
“In your dreams, dude. Went in there with her one time. Saw all these people pawing through the scraps, trying to find the one that would make them look like the pictures. Only one thing we wanted to tell ‘em.”
“What was that, dude?”
“’It’s not the underwear!!’”
“That doesn’t sound like ‘Saleswoman of the Year’ material to me.”
“It wasn’t. She quit. I was happy ‘bout it.”
“Too bad they don’t do hats. Look at these sexy numbers.”
“That’s their hair, dude! When the hell … Man, I don’t even want to think about totin’ one of those dos through a party. That redhead’s gonna get a crick in her neck. And how the hell can she see??”
“Dude, you got something to say ‘bout everything. Like you don’t want anything to do with chicks.”
“I want a real girl, dude, not one of these plastic things. Someone more interested in a relationship than her makeup.”
“Wow. You ok, dude? I’ll be right back with the Advil …”
“Besides, this Victoria’s Secret stuff is just one step away from the “Indian country virgins” crap that just showed up on here. Talk about sexploitation …”
“What … Holy shit! Don’t let O Ceallaigh see that, he’ll throw a wobbly. And we might get terminated!!”
“Too late. He has, and he has. But don’t worry, he’s told us we’re safe. Just moving.”
“To California?!? Oh, please, please …”
“No. To Blogger. At least until he figures out something else.”
“Damn.”
“You would prefer command-X?”
“That’s control-X. How many times I gotta tell you, you Mac-kissing deadhead?”
“Say goodnight, dude.”
“Goodnight, dude.”
- O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2006 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.
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Rock on! A shoutout from
Rock on! A shoutout from Professor OC! And on the last blog entry at that. I feel honored, even if the Dudes don't approve.
Why fashion? Because it can't save the world, and doesn't even try. It's flippant and irreverent, and incredibly pretentious. And if you can see beyond all of that, it's exactly what Dude said. Though I have my own sort of beauty, nothing in the world will make me look like a Victoria's Secret model. I'm ok with that. It would be brilliant for people to define themselves instead of letting someone else do it for them. THAT is the only definition of beauty that counts in my book. Ponder my username for a better explanation.
God. Saltine crackers and eggs. Damn tags. Goodnight, dude.
Rock on yourself, IG
I'm sure you capische that the post is more about ignorant responses to fashion than to fashion itself. Which, ultimately, is all about acting. Anyone with the dinero to actually afford these monstrosities is, in essence, on stage 24/7/365. I feel sorry for them, in a way. Of course, they could go around in jeans and use the money to improve society, but ... I know, what am I thinking???
Saltine crackers and eggs. Damn tags.
And no word from Admin about them. See "goodnight, dude". Don't be a stranger.
Absolutely I understand
Absolutely I understand that. I had a pair of shoes once worth $1000. I owned them for a whole 10 minutes before I knew I had to return them. I would have to redo my gravel driveway in order to preserve the leather. And the whole time, I felt worse about myself for ever buying them in the first place. I had crossed the line. I knew better than that.
That's why I site here writing my fashion articles, getting more and more attention for them. Meanwhile I'm wearing a horrible tshirt for a punk band that nobody has heard of, and the basketball pants I'm wearing have paint stains and WERE comprised of 100% polyester. Nowadays they are at least 10% cat hair. lol I think I'm ready to submit an article to Vogue.
I won't be a stranger. I visited there this morning and saw the video of your band. That's a nice little group, and it makes me miss my musical days.
Cheers to you.
Duuuuude!
I can't believe you're really leaving BP, OC! But I suppose there's really nothing wrong with moving on. It's funny, but I've come to think of you and BP going hand in hand. =)
And what is up with the tags?? Lol...
MySpace or Yours
Chiiiicka!
"I've come to think of you and BP going hand in hand."
Well, that's about the nicest thing I've heard in a month of Black Mondays. Thanks. Would have been right at the top of the list but for a series of events that I'm not going to talk about here. Has to do with peacocks ...
If the company were more like-minded, I might not be leaving. But as it is, I hope you'll drop by my Blogspot site.