There’s a few things I absolutely call fuckery on here.
Roaring Lion Muscle Tee: $13.80
Things I Have Issues with:
1. MUSCLE TEES mixed with pork pie hats. Where are you headed in this? Unless you are about to play a jazz flute solo in a smokey San Diego lounge and then directly after that about to change the oil in your classic ‘stang, you’re most probably doing this hat wrong.
How do I know this? Because those two things would not be done by the same person, let alone in the same outing.
Get it together.
2. The LION DISPLAYING IT’S ZEBRA MANGLERS from inside the cross. Is this supposed to be some thing about the lamb and the shepherd and the holy big cat? Am I missing a piece of the puzzle? ‘Cus all your girl can think about is injured wilder beasts and the lions who love them.
Could this be altered so that anything fierce and majestic can be inserted into the cross?
Can we just place anything in there and make it work?
Given how amazing these versions look, I’m going to say yes and move on.
Things I Surprisingly Do Not Have an Issue with:
The coochy shorts. If a lady wants to risk a yeast infection and a wicked jean burn on her muff flaps for the sake of fashion, that’s between her and her busy gynecologist. I ain’t even mad.
Forever 21, WTF?
Every now and then, a person pops into our lives who knows how to party.
This is the girl who bleaches her hair, then dyes it, then bleaches it again only to chop it all off the next week.
She swears and smokes and talks shit and rolls joints like a robot made specifically for the purpose of swearing, smoking, talking shit and rolling joints.
She’s a fucking tidal wave. A typhoon with a twister strapped to her back. She dances like a lunatic, makes plans and then breaks them and touches your boyfriend on the chest and thigh in the living room while you’re ralphing in a bucket because you tried to keep up with her wild ass and FAILED because you have organs inside your body and not just hollow storage spaces for narcotics and liquor to gather.
In short, she’s a terrible human being.
We call her, “That Party Bitch.”
These are her leggings.
It’s too bad they’re so fragile. That Party Bitch does NOT do hand wash.
Forever 21, Why Are you Setting That Party Bitch Up for Failure?
Sheer shirt. Cut off shorts. Inexplicable hat worn in inexplicable fashion. DEATH STARE.
But the real hero in this ensemble? The phrase that I will now be using to replace any expletives I use for the next week?
Well, that’d be Titty Crosses, my friend.
Forever 21, WTF?
Let’s play a game, lovelies.
Can you spot the difference?
Are you shameless, awesome and fantastic enough to admit what EXACTLY those differences are?
I pray to sweet, gentle, black Santa Claus the answer to both those questions is, “Yes.”
Leave your educated guesses in the comments.
Oh. And happy Thursday.
When obnoxious teens who don’t want to use condoms and rappers who have feuds with scumbags that beat the ever loving shit out of their girlfriends started saying, “YOLO” this year, I was confronted with a life dilemma. Just like that Natalie Imbruglia song, I was hella torn, ya’ll.
You Only Live Once Muscle Tee: $17.80
Torn between the douche-bag-iness. Torn between the fake Thug Life of light skinned finger waves and whatever alcoholic drink is trendy and/or paying for mentions that month. Torn between what would eventually become a hipster co-opting of this generation’s “Stay Young, Have Fun, Drink Pepsi” and the inevitable backlash that followed. However, this shirt is just so fucking lame I think it’s officially killed YOLO for good.
With this newest, albeit quite a bit too late, addition to the lore of YOLO, I’m pretty sure Forever 21 has managed to put the sleeveless, bedazzled, generic font nail in the coffin.
I know it’s hard to keep up with the whims of an entire generation, but if you can’t at least make t-shirts that are timely in their God awfulness, what are you under-employing all those workers for?
Forever 21, WTF?