Judges You Like A Hipster, Comment Box

everyone- let's just all calm down.

we recently received a comment on one of our posts that was entirely out of line. this blog is largely a commentary on fashion. we are respectful in our posting, and make every effort not to alienate anyone on or off campus.

these comments are meant to be satirical, not mean.

it is our right to say what we are saying, if you are offended by it- don't READ it. this is a part of what makes the internet such a beautiful place.

we're not posting pictures of anyone, and we request that you have a little self respect and not post any either.

rude, tasteless, disrespectful, and just plain mean comments posted on our blog targeting anyone will deleted immediately.

thank you,

the ladies.

now, back to work.

12:08 AM, line outside house party

there are so many things i could say right now. i could comment on how that jackass you were with was wearing a jacket that was so small it legit came up to his nipples. i could give a saucy remark about how your skirt was so damned short it actually was dancing northwards of your delicate lady parts whilst you stood still. i could mention that this same jackass was actually not attractive, and you totally knew it- we could all see it in your eyes, but you wanted to get laid, and you knew you would have no better chances tonight.

but i'm not going to comment on any of that.

i just wanted to say.

in what HELL-hole of a discount shoe store for the elderly did you find those godforsaken shoes? i mean, REALLY? you tried to get laid in those orthopedic bastards? holy shit, kid. i'm surprised you found homeboy with the high waters.

for real. consider some sweet slingbacks next time, with a slender heel. stacked heels with a square toe are SO fucking unbecoming and dated. that's why some poor elderly lady abandoned them at the salvation army to BEGIN with. she probably ran away in her stockings screaming "... AND STAY OFF!"

i suggest you do the same.

dear media monsters,

please leave michelle williams, her family, and the family of the late heath ledger alone.

there's a little word a famous singer once crooned about- "respect". use it sometimes.

there is a fine line between respectful dissemination of information and pathetically blatant greed, and it has become clear that you are not walking it well. 

hey, you.

yes, you.

the blonde in the leggings and ugg boots.

that's ENOUGH. it's OVER. it's safe now. you can bring the pants out of hiding.

see? isn't this GREAT? you CAN cover your ass and keep your feet warm at the same time!

i've begun to think this is what makes the 21st century so damn awesome.

12:02 AM, Dining Hall

our world may be going to hell in a handbasket, but it's still early february. winter.

it's cold outside. i'm surprised that the two feet of snow outside wasn't a dead give-away, but there you have it. it's 34 degrees fahrenheit out there. cold enough to freeze the ass of a monkey.

this is why i suggest that you tuck your midriff safely away under your shirt, tuck your sandals back beneath your bed until spring and invest in some nice sturdy winter shoes and carry along on your merry way.

so, here's the thing

we all have those mornings where staying in bed for an extra half-hour seems like a better idea than getting up, dressed, and bathed for life. showers at times do come in a far second to fulfilling a deep need for early-morning rest.

we all have days when we must go closet-diving for our last remaining article of semi-clean clothing- which is, invariably, a conveniently forgotten shrunken t-shirt in pale-chartreuse from sophomore year of high-school. that may or may not have been purchased at wet seal with allowance money.

in any event, some mornings all of us have difficulty preparing for life. it's ok. it's a fact of life.

however, if your hair is going to be tangled and matted and greasy like that... PUT IT AWAY. hide it. put it up. they make hats, headbands, hairbows, hair clips, headscarves, hair ties, and a veritable plethora of other assorted hair accessories for precisely THIS reason.

no excuses.

sort of like skorts

skirts weren't made to wear over jeans.

so please don't wear them over jeans.

a note to the general collegiate populace

SHUT.

THE.

FUCK.

UP.

about your damn life experiences. i mean, we all have them, we just choose not to share them in the middle of class.

also, i'm relatively certain you're not the first person to have realized that this american studies course does not touch on international issues. however, i'm relatively certain that everyone else who realized that and cared didn't SIGN UP FOR IT. so quit your damn whining.

hygiene

dear fellow humans,

before you deign to participate in modes of public (and private) transportation, please remember to bathe.

love, the masses.

3 pm on a friday--haunting an old stomping ground

one of the main reasons no student likes to leave their collegiate bubble is that s/he often realizes that whatever rules they play by at school aren't necessarily the ones their old zip code abide. this is only one of many reasons i'm not a fan of my suburban new jersey town, but this was the one that had me dreading returning to my old high school to pick up my sister.

unfortunately, i had good reason. every unoriginal girl who sported Ugg boots and teal Juicy tracksuits from That Clique in my grade has apparently been replaced by girls who find their calling in "edgy" hooded sweatshirts (i.e. black + roses and skulls) and leggings as pants. 

i watched as they flocked into closed circles to compare text messages for approx. three minutes before i gave up and fled to starbucks. i was sure that i'd find solace in enough cinnamon-sprinkled foam to make myself forget what i had seen, but i was sadly mistaken-- there was a line out the door of legging-clad girls from the middle school.

to aspiring sienna millers everywhere-- i judge you. because you fail.

-cee

12:54 AM, Regal Cinemas

fat police officers do not make me feel safe.

7:45 AM, Harvey

Under no circumstances is it appropriate or cool not to be wearing a bra.

Don't deny the power of the brassiere.