I’m supposed to go to a Hollywood themed party tonight. What kind of a lame idea for a party is that? The kind of lame idea that I came up with. So, everyone is supposed to dress up like a celebrity. Now I’ve got to figure out how to do that. I think the first key to dressing like a celebrity is to be filthy rich. That may be difficult to pull off by 10 o’clock tonight though. So, since I can’t afford to buy anything a celebrity would actually wear, I decided to go check out the vintage stores in Little Five Points. For those of you who don’t know Atlanta, think of the East Village. Now, stop thinking of the East Village because this is no where near as cool.
Why is it that every time I try and go vintage shopping I just end up pissed off? You know, there’s a reason people sold this crap to the stores in the first place. It’s ugly, it’s stained, or it looks like something from this guys closet.
And yet, it’s all somehow overpriced. While I’m venting here, I’d also like to tell the girls at Clothing Warehouse, to please, stop telling me that everything I try on looks great on me! Seriously, you are as transparent as Lindsay Lohan, on a sunny day. This shirt would be perfect for me if I ever get pregnant. And my arms shrink. Here’s a picture of a pregnant man that I’m sure we’ll all regret looking at.
I’m don’t know why I’m in such a spiteful mood today. I’ll try to be better by my next blog. I’d like everyone to know that I’m not an unremorseful meany pants, like Rick Gervais. And I’d like to take this time to apologize to any rich celebrity that I might have offended with this blog. And also to the girls at Clothing Warehouse. I love you, and I always have. And Lindsay Lohan, if by somehow you are actually reading this, I’m really sorry. Call me.
Rock over London, rock on, Chicago,
P.S. Watch this.