the good
the bad
trust me, my fragile ego has taken a roundhouse kick to the vitals. i actually just dug the ugly out of the trash in the interest of public safety -- while personally self destructive in the extreme, it speaks so much more than 1000 words about good things gone terribly terribly wrong. and then i could abuse the title from the well-known clint eastwood movie.
let's take it one step at a time: the good.
silk/acetate in a color that was concocted in a petri dish in italy by smashing photons (in my lab, photons are the tiny particles in photos that carry the color) under enormous pressure, similar to the recipe for an atom bomb, and then applying it by laser and sending the whole thing over to abra auto body for a super high gloss finish. then a 47" zipper was installed along with special self-wedging crotchal seams. wala!
the bad.
never say never. i leave never for other people to say to me. and in this instance, i was at savers' 50% off (50% off sanity, hygiene, self-respect, everything) sale unsupervised and this is what happened. i laid down $1.99 for crocs. brain chemicals + lighting at savers = highly unstable compound.
the ugly.
whew, where to start. well i started by trying to wriggle into them once i got home from savers (they fit philosophically and that's all that mattered). they are size too-small but in my upstairs hall mirror, the look was snooki minus a couple jello shots. thus, acceptable. nay, desirable. and seeing how the pants were not fully activated by the flat photo on top, i slipped them on (with the help of a wet vac) under a sheer vintage dress i'd just worn to trader joe's and involved dennis in this crime. well you talk about activation -- the hello kitty flash went off and in an instant 50 shiny meters were added to my ass real estate, like a vast pink skating rink from hip to shining rump. when i uploaded the photo for editing, i got a flashing error message, something about toxic mass/she's gonna blow/shit like that. my point in pressing the publish-this-atrocity button was to illustrate the unvarnished (ok, highly varnished) truth about the latent evil in pink shiny pants. unless you are going to queens, ny in which case people will think you are the virgin mary and your photo will be on the front page of the NY Post.
let's take it one step at a time: the good.
silk/acetate in a color that was concocted in a petri dish in italy by smashing photons (in my lab, photons are the tiny particles in photos that carry the color) under enormous pressure, similar to the recipe for an atom bomb, and then applying it by laser and sending the whole thing over to abra auto body for a super high gloss finish. then a 47" zipper was installed along with special self-wedging crotchal seams. wala!
the bad.
never say never. i leave never for other people to say to me. and in this instance, i was at savers' 50% off (50% off sanity, hygiene, self-respect, everything) sale unsupervised and this is what happened. i laid down $1.99 for crocs. brain chemicals + lighting at savers = highly unstable compound.
the ugly.
whew, where to start. well i started by trying to wriggle into them once i got home from savers (they fit philosophically and that's all that mattered). they are size too-small but in my upstairs hall mirror, the look was snooki minus a couple jello shots. thus, acceptable. nay, desirable. and seeing how the pants were not fully activated by the flat photo on top, i slipped them on (with the help of a wet vac) under a sheer vintage dress i'd just worn to trader joe's and involved dennis in this crime. well you talk about activation -- the hello kitty flash went off and in an instant 50 shiny meters were added to my ass real estate, like a vast pink skating rink from hip to shining rump. when i uploaded the photo for editing, i got a flashing error message, something about toxic mass/she's gonna blow/shit like that. my point in pressing the publish-this-atrocity button was to illustrate the unvarnished (ok, highly varnished) truth about the latent evil in pink shiny pants. unless you are going to queens, ny in which case people will think you are the virgin mary and your photo will be on the front page of the NY Post.
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