Tuesday, Sept. 17, 2002
Dear Diary:

MarnCo, the ruthless multinational behind The Big Adventure, has been deluged by correspondence from angry wombats, outraged to have any of their bodily fluids compared in any way to tofu.

We would like to take a moment here to apologize abjectly for any inadvertent pain we may have caused our valued wombat readership and to promise that in the future we will only compare tofu to the snot of extinct creatures since, being dead and all, it's harder for them to express outrage.

It's so important to be politically correct, don’t you find?

Hey, have I mentioned that I've decided I need My Own Personal Homo?

I think it may be the answer to my fashion angst.

Look, it's never been a secret that I am terrifically fashion-challenged, but this last visit to Montreal has left me feeling even more frumpy than usual.

I was messaging with Adam about fads last night and he said that almost all the current fads were worn years ago by the homos.

Keychains? Homos.

Low pants with underwear showing? Homos.

He claimed that without homos there would be no fashion trends. Being the culturally sensitive person I am, I immediately decided that if I ever want to understand fashion I Need A Homo.

Now you might think that all homos are alike, but they're not. I know. It's confusing. I mean, we have homos out here in the country, but believe it or not, they're not interested in fashion questions at all!

Yepper, as far as I can tell homos are kind of like Smurfs in that they all have distinct personalities. You can tell them from Smurfs, though, because they're not little and blue. They can be little and yellow, though and I think they might come in other colours as well, but as far as I know they're not blue.

The homos seem to be confusingly diverse. You would think that if you could throw a label on them, the least they could do in return is to be consistent, but oh, no, they aren't.

You can imagine how hard it is on me to understand all this. I'm older than dirt, I live in the boonies, and I STILL WEAR ARMY GREEN CARGO PANTS!

Maybe I'm biting off more than I can chew here. Maybe I'm MEANT to be fashion-challenged and I should just accept myself as I am.

The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that if I were to ever get anywhere near the cutting edge of fashion there would probably be blood and it would be mine and Somebody Would Have To Clean It Up.

And, well, we ALL know how I feel about housework, eh.

So, um, about the whole Personal Homo To Help Me Understand Fashion Thingie?



Old Drivel - New Drivel

Subscribe with Bloglines

Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -

.:Cast:. .:Diaryland Notes:. .:Comments (0 so far):. .:E-mail:.
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.

Cavort, cavort, my kingdom for a cavort Globe of Blogs 12 Per Cent Beer my partners in crime

A button for random, senseless, drive-by linkings:
Blogroll Me!

< ? blogs by women # >
« Bloggers over forty + ? »
<< | BlogCanada | >>
[ << ? Verbosity # >> ]
<< x Blog x Philes x >>

This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.