Years of toiling in Pittsburgh have retarded my sartorial sensibilities. This is ill-timed in light of my “move” to Paris. I don’t want to look like a bumbling American, ya know. Not to worry. Bored with learning French, I’ve redirected my energy toward absorbing Parisian fashion. It has come to my attention that Parisian men dress real gay. This is problematic. Not only am I not gay, gaydars tend to clock me in the hopeless/clueless range. So…what to do, what to do. Here’s what: Last week I saw the gayest looking sneakers I’d ever seen. So I bought them! Paris here I come! And yesterday I went to the mall! The mall! I haven’t shopped at a mall in 20 years. I bought Lucky and BKE (Buckle) jeans. Weeeeeee! I mean Ouiiiiiiiiiiii!
In other “news”, I’m not sure what to do about my afro. I know we don’t talk much anymore, but just so you know, I’m three months into a year-long haircut strike. Unfortunately, follicle results appear to be sabotaging my anti-bumbling scheme. So there’s that.