Fashion

First and most importantly, Jen dug up the Chucks she ordered for me back when I was still wearing the brace. Now that I’m getting around more, I need real sneakers for outdoor excursions—the Crocs just don’t do the trick. Sure, I can and have been wearing my silver Nikes but those lack the fashion pizazz that my soul cries out for.  (WHAT?)

So, here they are. Awesome, no? Only one problem—the white laces are just too…white. I need contrast, color, flair. I went on a hunt for happening laces and found brilliantly colored, shiny metallic laces. Now I need to choose. Turquoise? Pale green? Lavender?

Decisions, decisions.

In other “fashion” news:

Not that this’ll come as any surprise to anyone with half a brain but the orange shitstain really doesn’t possess even a microscopic lick of self knowledge. He gave skeevy praise for White House Press Secretary Jen Psaki’s 'really beautiful red hair' and commented that MSNBC hired her because:

“They need a redhead, they don’t have a redhead over there,”

Yup, the crumbling skid mark from Queens, is reducing an astoundingly awesome, spectacularly intelligent, skilled and accomplished woman to her hair color. To him, she’s no more than an object—a redhead—not someone who, given the opportunity, could neatly castrate him with just a look.

This useless fecal brained, roadkill faced piece of used jet trash hired the amazingly vapid, dimwitted K-Lie McNinny as his press secretary. Why? Undoubtedly because she’s young, “blonde” and ready-for-her-FOX-closeup “pretty.”

Ya know, if I was the University of Miami, Harvard, Oxford, and Georgetown, I’d rescind her degrees and file a cease and desist order to keep my name outta her mouth. Christ, she’d be an embarrassment to degree mills.

In other hair news, I understand that dolts like Bill Maher (and others) are now blaming Jada Pinkett Smith for Slapgate. Charming. I'm sure the blame-the-victim ploy really scores these bags of smelly toad smegma loads of hot sexy dates.

Nice to know that, no matter what we vagina Americans achieve, no matter what struggles we surmount, we will always be reduced to our looks. In these particular cases, hair and/or the lack thereof.

I only mention it but, after my last few brain surgeries, my scalp looks like a roadmap of downtown Boston. I’ve got some significant scars, infertile valleys and deep troughs where no hair will ever grow again. Shaving my head isn’t an option because:

A) Did I mention the valleys—ravines even? I'm not exactly rockin' the Brâncuși look here.  If ma tête was just scarred—man ’o’ man—I’d be showing those babies off. Scars are great get-to-know-you conversation starters. Most come with brill stories!
B) A shaved head doesn’t pair well with six chins. OKAY, okay, I don’t have a glut of chins but I’m hardly svelte. I’m not confident I could fabulously sport the look.

Okay, I gotta get back to the important business of choosing the right shoelaces to go with my zippy sparkle Chucks.