Thursday, November 4, 2010

"I'm at the tip of the spear...fresh to death"

I find stuff like this terribly funny, in a dark way of course. Basically there are 3 ways to react to modern superficiality: resist it, give in to it via inertia or write a book based on your mastery of it. Here are too excerpts I found hilarious:

No matter what T-shirt you select, whether it's fitted, graphic, sequined, bedazzled, crew-neck, deep-V, wifebeater, or what-have-you, it's about being proud of who you are. If you want to bust out a deep-V that's safety-cone orange because you think that's your color, then wear the hell out of that fruity shirt so everybody in the club knows that nobody owns it like you do. Set the trends, don't follow them. I wear what makes me feel good because I'm at the tip of the spear—the cutting edge of fashion that's fresh to death. When I see something I like, I grab it. My only system when I shop for fresh apparel is my own primal reaction to what I see, the moment I see it. When I enter a store, I trust my eye to zero in on what's mint. That's the single most effective system I have for knowing when to pull the trigger on a purchase. If I find myself hemming and hawing, that's a clear indication that the garment in question is not destined to make my rotation. I walk away from the rack because I've failed to make a connection to those threads. On the other hand, if I know from the moment I see it that that particular piece is going to make me look awesome, I trust my instinct completely and it comes home with The Sitch.

This next part made me laugh out loud uncontrollably. I doesn't really matter whether these guys are serious or pretending to be. It's the quintessence of self-importance.

One day at the mall, my boys and I decided to pop into The Cheesecake Factory for a quick bite. There was a mob scene of patrons waiting inside the doors so I had my good friend, The Unit, go inside to check on the availability of a table. By the way, The Unit, who was my college roommate, is almost always at my side. He has got mad game all his own and there's not doubt that America will be seeing much more of him very shortly. So, The Unit approached the hostess and said, "Look, I've got The Situation with me. Do you have any tables?" She seemed physically pained by the predicament The Unit was putting her in. She said, "Y'know, it's a ninety-minute wait. He's a very recognizable face. If we bring him in here ahead of all these people who have been waiting for so long, it would no doubt cause a lot of animosity and might be viewed in a very negative light for both the restaurant and for The Situation. That being said, we'll do the best we can."

The Unit. Too much, really. Almost makes me embarrassed to own testicles. Almost.


  1. We have somehow failed to pass Foster Brooks on to the next generation. Will our children's generation do the same with The Sitch?

  2. I suppose that it's sort of an ego-induced public drunkenness.

  3. "She seemed physically pained by the predicament The Unit was putting her in."

    There's an ointment for that, I'm sure.