Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about labels and f-bombs. Lotsa f-bombs.

30DBC PROMPT: "You are a fashion police officer for a day, what type of violations will you go after and arrest?"

BAHAHAHAHA!! What's up yo? Crazy prompt today in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" . I'm not a "fashion police officer". I am, in fact, probably the best and worst offender of fashion.

I really never played into trends. I just bought what I liked when out shopping for clothes. And I know what I like. If others like it, fine. If they don't, well, that's cool too. But here's the problem...we're limited in being able to buy only what stores sell. And stores stock up on what they think is going to be the "hot" item of the season. And if it's ugly, but all the superstars of the world start wearing it, all the wanna-be popular people are gonna start wearing it too. Which it why it feels like the late 1980's all over again when I watch the few minutes of tv that I do in a given week. Not a fashion period I wish to relive.

Take my outfit today for example. I'm a fashion nightmare. Light khaki Nike golf hat with a navy stripe that I've had for probably 15 years. Dark teal/light blue (I have no idea, and apparently neither does Writing ML's colors...it's a little darker than this color) t-shirt under a white American Eagle button-down (sleeves rolled up) with thin pink stripes and thinner blue stripes. Khaki cargo shorts from Izod. White shell-toe Adidas with black stripes and laces, and no socks (showing off my scars validates my limp). The pages of GQ magazine, soon I will not be gracing.

And that's all quite fine with me. I don't judge you, you don't judge me. I tend to stick to neutral shades and fits that will look good in any era. If you wanna wear the latest ugly things, that's your choice. I prefer Burger King over McDonalds, rap over country and wheat toast instead of rye; you might be the opposite. Sure, ok, you got me...if you look really bad or tasteless, I'mma judge you. Unfortunately, most don't leave the house going, "I look like a fashionista-y train wreck tonight! Let's go to the bistro and do shots and who cares where my clothes end up!" And the few that do, well, they deserve whatever happens to them after a couple too many drinks on a Tuesday afternoon.

One last point...screw the mall. I'm all growed-up and a little over myself now and the ego I had in my twenties. Like I said, I don't give a damn what I wear as long as I like it and it fits me and my personality. And I don't care what the label says or how I obtain it. I have no problem shopping off the Salvation Army or Amvets' racks. High-end names for super-cheap prices? Who cares? Who's gonna know the difference? You might, but if you really cared, you'd keep the price tags on your clothes so we could mock your stupid ass for spending $88 on a t-shirt. Because people do that. And I'm happy I'm not one of them.

BCF PROMPT: First, the image portion:

** Image ID #1937400 Unavailable **

This is easy. Of course, y'all know when I say something is easy, I'm quite often wrong.

That's a game I know I can win, the business of being incorrect. It looks like the logo off a bottle of Diet Pepsi. How would I know this? I dunno. I have the image of a slovenly-dressed non-thin/non-fat guy to uphold.

Now, for the hard part: "Cussing. What's your take on it?"

Damn. I get the feeling I'm going to be the outspoken one around here regarding this. But there's a method to my mouthiness.

I may not have been raised with a filthy yapper, but I have one, and I make no apologies for it. Whether it was the music I listened to, the people I was around, or any percentage combination of both, I swear. A lot. The f-word rolls out as naturally as any other word will. And when I find myself in company where I have to watch what I say, I tend not to be as trusting. Of them, or my mouth. I wind up being quieter in general (which I'm sure some wouldn't mind anyway). Basically, I don't like to conform.

People make too much of a big deal about things, and they're way too sensitive (and I'll be the first to tell you that I'm too sensitive sometimes). Cussing is a part of reality, much the same many other things in this world that we can't control are. Violence still exists. Swearing will exist. People wearing sweatpants in public when they have no business doing so will always exist. These things will happen. And just as they have a right to occur (in some cases), you have a right not to participate.

I believe that when used appropriately, cussing can add a certain element to a conversation. Maybe for it's shock power, I don't know. I'm not a linguist and I'm not gonna waste a Saturday afternoon looking up reasons to validate my point. But it's simple. Saying "fuck" just to say "fuck" probably isn't necessary. In fact, it's probably a little distasteful and makes you sound like you don't know a better word. But there are times when all you can do is just drop it, because you know it's gonna explode and the impact is that of which can only be felt by the proper usage of the word. More plainly said, there's a time and a place for it. And some of us have bigger spots and better watches.

That is all, thanks and you're welcome.

And trust me, this entry has barely put my "18+ rating" to the test.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

There's no way the entire point of this entry could be complete without this anti-label, anti-corporation blast.

VITAL STATS:

It's Saturday! It's like the official "day off from blogging". Call your blog into work sick. Be way more busier than you ever are. Get some sunshine. Read a book. Have a life. I should take my own advice.

And that's what I'm gonna do...cruise the WDC forums for a minute or two and do nothing the rest of today and tomorrow. Sounds like a plan. Peace, it's my house, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!