(when the feeling’s gone and you can’t go on, tragedy)
no, nothing like that – this is about fashion tragedy. Self respect tragedy.
I was taking a couple of DVD’s back to Blockbuster on Sunday afternoon (please note the time of the day, it is central to this story) when I was queuing behind a very large lady – nothing exceptional or particularly noteworthy there you might think, but it’s the details that matter.
Lets look at the main points.
1. She was wearing pyjamas
2. Also a fluffy dressing gown with breakfast (or worse) stains
3. And slippers
4. With her hair like she’d stuck her finger in a power socket (I’m not kidding)
5. She had full on facial hair
6. It was 4pm.
7. In a busy video store.
8. She was carrying milk, so she’d obviously been into the supermarket or garage too
So, being the man about time that I am (and a downright sneaky bastard) – I took a pic.
Ok, not a great pic, but I didn’t want to get busted and you get the idea.
When does self respect fall so low that you roll out of bed and just rock on up to the shops without so much as thinking “humm, maybe I should have a shower and run my fingers through my hair and maybe get fucking dressed into some outside clothes”