The Badass of the Week.

-- Warm Weather Really Brings Out the Skanks --
Update 22 April 2005 by Hot Andrea


Here in picturesque, scenic Boston, we've had a few days of truly beautiful weather this week.  The temperature got into the 70s and 80s earlier in the week and it made me notice a few interesting things:

  1. 80 here feels hotter than 80 in Florida. Maybe I'm just used to frigid weather now.
  2. Everyone eats ice cream when the temperature is above freezing.
  3. There is nothing like nice day to bring out the skanky whores.

People in Boston make a lot of money.  It's expensive to live here.  Rent is sky-high, insurance is ridiculous, and even groceries cost more.  My point is that Bostonians can afford to buy decent clothes and look good.  They just don't.  I made the mistake of walking down Commonwealth Ave. on Wednesday when the sun was shining, the sky was bright blue and the sluts were abound.  Every chick I saw out there was wearing pretty much the same thing.  I felt like I had been magically transported to a bad sci-fi movie.  I briefly considered crying.  But then the sluts win.  And we sure as shit can't have that.  Below, I have outlined the slut uniform and the deep emotional ramifications such attire has on the general populace.

Exhibit A!!!!

Sorry, I just always wanted to do that. (ahem)

A.  The basic slut skirt

Apparently, the "hot" item this season is the flimsy skirt pictured below.  Not only does it barely cover anyone's ass, but it looks like something you'd put your 8-year old retarded niece in.  In 1985.



The worst part is that I can't imagine this skirt looks good on anyone not built like Paris Hilton and yet I swear to god I saw a short 200-pound chick waddling down the road like she looked good.  The skirt is hideous to begin with.  And it ain't made for normal people.  Maybe my perception is skewed, given my "Cadillac Booty", but I think any skirt that's under 12" long from waistband to hemline is a bad idea.  Leave a little something to the imagination, ladies.  I'm not saying you should wear burkas or anything... I'm merely suggesting a little modesty might reduce the number of scary middle-aged men driving beat up rape vans slowing down to ogle you while drooling on themselves and chewing tobacco.  The end.

B. The barely-a-shirt-at-all tube top or tank

Speaking as a former professional seamstress, I can tell you for a fact that your standard I'm-a-1980s-old-school-punk-rocker bandana in your back pocket (but only on the left side - yeah that's the Crip side) has more fabric than the average trendy little tube top or halter top or tank top in the junior wear department.  Yet forth go the masses, dressed in tiny little shirts that might embarrass the average $8-an-hour-anything-you-want hooker.  Lycra is everywhere.  Every time I leave the house, I feel awash in some scantily clad co-ed's skin oils.  Trust me:  it's not hot.  If I can determine the size, shape and color of your areolas, your shirt is over the top slutty.  Seriously.  Do you think I'm looking that hard?  I have more than enough nipple of my own.  I don't need to see yours too, sugarmuffin.



C. The Ubiquitous flip-flop

I actually don't have a problem with flip-flops.  They're comfortable and easy.  I often toss on a pair with my jeans to run across the street to the convenience store where no one speaks English and you can't buy juice for some bizarre reason.  Seriously.  You can't get juice there.  You can buy heads of garlic, or fat-free half and half, but no juice.  What the hell is up with that?  It's almost like they're like, "No juice!!  It is forbidden in my country.  Only garlic!!"  They ARE open on Christmas day, though, as I discovered this year.  Good to know.  Anyway, I digress.  Flip flops.  Right.  My issue with the ho's wearing flip flops is two-fold.  First of all, they're almost never garden-variety $2.50 at CVS pool-side flip-flops.  They're often sparkly or spangly or leather (who wears leather flip-flops, for god's sake?).  And they often have exorbitantly high heels or platforms.  Hence, you see this drunken slut teetering toward you in a ridiculously short skirt and practically no shirt expecting you to get out of her little princess path because if you force her to break stride, she might fall off her high heel and then you have that appalling episode of Will & Grace when Will fell off his clog and got addicted to pain killers!  What the fuck?  I don't need that in my life, yo.

The other problem is that when everyone else is wearing tiny little flip flops on the T, I still prefer big clunky shoes, even if I do feel like open-toed ones.  So trying to make my way off a crowded train, nine times out of ten, I'm going to break someone's toe, crunching it to death under my mega-mega platform chunky shoe of destruction.  Maybe that's actually not a problem.  Nevermind.

D. Miscellaneous accessories

Most of these city-riffic skanks wear the following accessories:

  1. Sunglasses - I am of the opinion you only need sunglasses while driving or while playing pro baseball.  And then, they should probably be Blue Blockers or something equally cool.  They should not be I-have-a-windshield-stuck-to-my-face ghettoi sunglasses.  Nor should they have any "bling" because I will only want to hit you in the face and knock them into on-coming traffic.

  2. Some atrocious beaded necklace - I saw a chick wearing a white coral/shell bead necklace thing only today.  I recognized it as such because I myself had a similar necklace at one time.  It was my favorite thing in the entire world.  When I was six.  Ninety-nine percent of the skanks walking around outside are wearing these ugly beaded necklaces.  I really don't get it.  If it's one-of-a-kind or has some kind of meaning to you, wear it.  Otherwise, you and everyone else who shops at Aeropostale are wearing the same trashy $3 necklace.  Originality, folks.  Try it.

  3. Purses - In Boston, the sluts all have money (see opening paragraphs), so they all carry fucking $300 tote bags.  On the train this morning, I saw a chick who looked kind of average-y dressed.  She was wearing khakis and a polo shirt and was carrying a black bag.  I'm wearing khakis and a polo too... Here's the difference:  my khakis were $30, my polo was $9 and my bag was like $15.  Her khakis were Banana Republic (so I guesstimate them at like $60), her polo was also a brand name of some kind and she was carrying a little tiny black bag that might hold my wallet and keys and not much else.  But it was a Prada, goddammit.  I found the bag she was carrying online:  $280!!  That's more than my entire wardrobe cost, I'm pretty sure.  What the hell is the point of looking so cheap, only to carry such an expensive bag?

Each and every time I leave my house in the long 15-day summer we have here, I die a little inside.  Not only do I have to watch a bunch of co-eds a-ho'in, but I have to pretend it doesn't bother me to see them degrade themselves that way.  Ok actually, I don't care if they want to look classless and cheap.  That's fine by me.  I just don't want to have to overhear conversations like this anymore:

Allison:  "Oh my god, Jenny.  I was so drunk last night and while I was throwing up, I passed out and my skirt was like riding up so high that I think Mark saw my underwear!"

Jenny:  "That's so horrible!  I think I would have died.  I'm so glad my skirt didn't flip up in the wind yesterday like I thought it was going to.  But oh my god, my boob like totally popped out of my tube top while I was running for the train!  Like someone actually stopped their car to get a better look.  Perverts.  I so don't get it."

Let me also remind you (before you get all hot and bothered) that usually these chicks aren't the type you WANT to see half-naked ok?  We're not talking about some hot Brazilian enclave of women who all look like the Brazilian VS model who looks like a zombie;  we're talking about pasty New Englanders with cellulite and fake tans who stand outside my bedroom window WOOO-ing at passing cars late into the night.  In other words:  unattractive fucktards.

In closing, I would like to say the following:  please make some honest friends before you walk outside looking like a circa 1980s streetwalker.  If your friends won't tell you how slutty you look, invest in a good mirror.  If you can see your reflection and notice more than one of the above-listed items, go change clothes immediately.  I also believe that certain clothes should be outfitted with alarms that go off such as:  WARNING!  YOU HAVE EXCEEDED THE WEIGHT LIMIT FOR THIS OUTFIT!  PLEASE REMOVE IT BEFORE VENTURING FARTHER!  And then make a car-alarm-esque sound.

The end.

Love,
    me







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