On The Importance Of Not Being a Jackass
I was reading this article on HuffPo because the thumbnail image for it was a pair of granny panties. And at first I thought it was satirical. The guy talking in a funny way about they tyrannical obsession with female beauty and grooming in our society. No. He’s serious. To which I can only say: Bite me, and then die in a fire, you big queeny motherfucker.
What a self-important, judgmental, superficial jackass. What is he? A professional female appearance critic? By walking into his line of sight have you opened yourself up to his 10-pt review? Never mind what women are DOING in a day. Make sure you focus on how they’re LOOKING while they’re doing it. Oh just fuck you and your anachronistic bullshit brigade. And double-fuck the women who commented on his post about how awesome his advice was. Can the Jezebel ladies please go and give him a makeover, and have him wear Spanx and heels to a party, keeping his hair and makeup impeccably preserved the entire time, while carrying the perfect bag that “matches to a ‘T’”?
(excerpt here, but you don’t have to go read the whole thing. It never gets any better and you get the gist of it from this bullshit intro.)
Tony Alcindor: On The Importance Of Details
One of my all time favorite pastimes is people-watching, and ever since I moved to New York I couldn’t be happier. It’s like being part of a giant fashion show and the sidewalk is the runway. Every street, every block, every neighborhood has another real life model strutting her stuff in this great metropolis.Then I started to look a little closer…
To my dismay, not all was what it seemed. Not all of you were paying attention! Not all were taking the time to pull it together! When I looked a little closer, things were good from afar, but far from good. My rose-colored glasses are cracked and some of you are skipping whole steps — things you forgot to do. You think no one notices or you simply couldn’t be bothered.
THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE, LADIES!
Sidenote: Yesterday I ducked out of the house to the gelateria to escape the moving noise. Like I said, I had been bawling like a newborn calf all day because of the situation next door, and being hormonal. I barely had the fortitude to find clothing to put on, much less matching, attractive clothing. I was also wearing red underpants and khaki shorts. I had no idea if they showed through and I could not care less if they did. I knew for sure that my bra was showing out the side of my tank top when my shirt blew open, and I certainly did not care about that at all. So I walked into the place looking like a hot mess, and not giving a shit. I ordered my sandwich and chai and paid. The guy (obviously gay with long, manicured fingernails) took my $20 and said “Do you mind if I give you some advice?” Now, given my recent rants about gay men and their unwanted critiques of me when I am out, my blood pressure was prepared to go through the roof. I know I looked terrible! I needed no one to tell me! I had more on my plate than beautifying myself for other people’s viewing pleasure! I narrowed my eyes at him and said “Excuse me?” and he repeated patiently “Do you mind if I give you some fives?”
I blinked. I said that fives were fine and I started laughing, explaining that I thought he said that he wanted to give me some advice and (laughingly) that I was not in the mood for any advice. He looked at me and said “My advice? Take a vacation.”
Actually, that’s good advice. Thanks, gelateria man. ;-)
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