As you can
see, my blog has gone through a drastic facelift since the last time you were
here. And if you can’t tell, well maybe you’re not intelligent enough to be
reading this in the first place.
For full
effect, download “Fashion is Danger” by Flight of the Conchords, and play at
maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.
I would also
like to add that it doesn’t really matter how flashy or visually appealing a
person’s blog looks. If the content they are posting day in and day out sucks
worse than any Adam Sandler film post-“Big Daddy” then it doesn’t really matter
how good it looks on the surface. If you want to keep people coming back, you
have to deliver with your words.
Or just continue
making jokes about kicking midgets. That always keeps people entertained.
On a
completely opposite side note, which is in fact the reverse tangent this entire
post is going to be heading, I had a heated debate with a girl over an outfit I
was caught wearing yesterday. And yes, I did just use the word “outfit”, so
what? I still L-word women and don’t swing from the other side of the plate as
my understanding of modern fashion vocabulary may be implying.
Not that
there’s anything wrong with that.
While
wearing a rather slick pair of pants and collared shirt, I had a conversation
with a good friend, a friend who I normally would come up with some witty
blogalias for, but then again I gave up the whole childish blogalias/nickname
thing when I grew up last month and started sleeping without a nightlight. This
great gal who I shall just refer to as M, made a very complimentary statement
about my clothes which was followed by an extremely risqué suggestion.
M: “Seeing
as how your first day of teaching college will be next Monday, I think you
should wear that same outfit. It’s really college professor-esque and it gives
off the professional, classy look that you should try and have?”
Me: “Whoa,
whoa, whoa, are you serious? I can’t do that!”
M: “Why
not?”
Me: “I would
be breaking the cardinal rule of fashion, a rule that has higher legitimacy
over never wearing brown shoes with blue pants.”
M: “And what
rule is that?”
Me: “The two
week rule! I have to wait at least two weeks before I can wear the same outfit or
I’ll be shamed for being a bum. I’m better than that!”
For the
record, I would also like to add that just because I know that you are never
allowed to wear brown shoes with blue slacks, and that you never double dip an
item of clothing within the same calendar week, does not mean that I prefer the
company of men.
Not that
there’s anything wrong with that.
It was at
this point when dear M laughed in my face with a guffaw to spite my recognition
of parliamentary fashion procedure.
M: “No one
will care Brock, that’s the thing. No one will notice that you’re wearing an
outfit like that. None of your students will have any idea.”
Me: “That’s
not the point. They may not care, but I will. Because I have standards. And
there is no way I can turn into a stylistic hypocrite, especially since the
values in my life are centered around this rule.”
Am I wrong
for holding myself accountable for something like this? Am I crazy thinking
that a random stranger might know that I’m breaking my own code? Am I a Metrosexual
for knowing more than one rule of fashion? The answer could go either way on
that last one. As for right now I don’t think I can compromise my morals and
wear the same shirt and slacks within six days of each other. That would be immoral. People would
think I’m just plain crazy!
On second thought,
the fact that I just wrote a 680-word post on the ethics of wearing an outfit,
there is plenty of ammunition to get me booked into a nuthouse.
