mood: exhausted
music: friggin orchescheiβ music stuck in me 'ead...
CPCetc: pondering the various important parts of life, ie why some ceilings have those funky dot things
** **I should be doing my schoolwork. Am I doing it? ...No.
Today I came up with a brilliant plan. After scanning the various trashy retail store ads (alias Kohls, JC Penny's, usw) I came to a rather startling conclusion. People, liek, preppy rich people, are actually paying to dress like theatre kids. Now, this was terribly alarming to me. Theatre kids, last I checked were just about the lowest forms of life on the planet. And by 'planet' I mean 'planet of high school'. I mean, we're beneath the stereotypical Weird Science geeks. We don't just get our gym shorts pulled down, we get them ripped from our bodies, pissed on, flushed in the toilet, tied on a flag pole and pulled over our head. You can't get much worse than that.
But these designer ripped-up jeans with the 'paint' stains? And the funky hats stolen from our closets? And the Cons and the band shirts and the faux-vintage plaids? I was wearing these clothes three years ago!! Talia was wearing them six years ago!! And I don't know about Talia, but I got some wisecracks made at my expense. And, personally, I was wearing these clothes because I was too dirt-poor to buy actual 'cool' clothes from Aberzombie and Bitch. So...why are all the Aberzombie bitches wearing my three-year-old wardrobe?
Naturally, I was outraged by this. So I have come up with a brilliant scheme! Observe:
1. befriend a major designer or actor; both is best
2. begin wearing delightfully tacky, though still aesthetically interesting clothing around them, thus brainwashing them into thinking these clothes are actually stylish
3. convince said designer/actor to adopt this style
4. style becomes international as more and more fall to its whimsical and unfashionable charm
5. reap in the benefits and reclaim the theatre style for its rightful owners!!!
Claire who sits next to me in EnviSci said it's fool-proof. Now all I need to do is find a designer... And some pleather...
There's a homeless guy staying in my girlfriend's dorm. As much as I love homeless people (and Paige and Rachel will vouch for me, goddamnit), I'm really not sure how I feel about this. And before anyone starts calling me names, it has nothing to do with the state of his employment and everything to do with me being four-hundred miles away and tiny to boot. Damn it, why couldn't I be a Brandybuck?? I mean, sure, I've got the freakishly huge blue eyes and all, but I'd totally take the super-strength over that!
...And that was amusing to no one but me. *hangs head in shame*
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