Filed under: NYC
3 weeks! Unbelievable, I know. I’ll never comprehend how the earth manages to spin on its axis without my contributions to the blogorgy–you know, a couple musty old links and bad jokes born out of sexual frustration. Nevertheless, I push on in the interests of self-flagellation, seeing as how writing blog posts is proving to be akin to getting swatted with a bamboo cane across my ass. After laying naked in the Arizona sun for two days, that is.
There has actually been a surplus of things to blog about–Spring Training, the wonder that is California, moving across town, sexy bloggers–but true to form, I’m going to delve into the trivial and insignificant. Like the bassist for the the New Violators, a 5-piece from Norway who have decided to bring back the spirit of The Fixx and numerous other shitty 80s synth-pop bands:
This dude looks like he got lost on the way a Journey video shoot. Am I right?
You can’t let a sight like this go without documenting it for posterity, which is why I will once again praise the technology gods for granting us tiny cameras on our phones. This guy’s pants are so tight you can practically read his DNA; I can’t even conceive of how he can wedge his legs into them, outside of getting them sewn around his legs and just never taking them off, EVER. And wearing the blazer kills me; maybe he got dressed, was checking himself out in the mirror and just thought, “I need to OWN this look…this is the 21st century now, we’ve got to class things up a bit.”
No one tells you that living in NYC and going to a fair number of concerts is akin to enrolling in a sociological study of the Early 21st Century Hipster Douche, but maybe that’s one of those things that should be self-evident. More to come as events warrant.
