Observational Remarks - Fug Fridays: hair club for men and a gypsy

Hello Readers/Browsers/Hanger-on'ers!

I'm rolling around the idea of doing a "Fug Fridays" entry on every Friday (schedule permitting), because sadly, my eyes are afflicted by a lot inexcusable and unforgivable fug throughout my trekking. I internalized most of these encounters but I figured that it's not worth dying of a heart attack because I didn't release the pent-up shock from seeing a head-to-toe multi neon-pastel colour combo that made me nearly throw up the contents of my dear belly. For entries such as these, photographic evidence is necessary to convey a clear message and I've actually posted an entry like this before in the manner of Spirit Fingers and would love to do more if I wasn't so worry about my sweet ass being violated by some Vicodin-crazed-wannabe-Kimora who caught me taking the pic. 'Cause, you know, I need to preserve what ever inspiration that generates the type of endearments men have shown for my very non-extraordinary ass. Thus, I humbly offer my own pictorial renderings below. They may not suffice but I hope they will help you conjure up the image that pained my vision.

Credit given to where it's due: My Fug Fridays project is partially inspired by Go Fug Yourself, Spirit Fingers, and the wonderful Puntabulous. (and also by my inspiring lunch of squished up grape tomatoes, olives, basil, dashes of Parmesan and garlic soaked in rosemary, chili olive oil and coffee!! Sweet strong Ghirardelli chocolate coffee - I'm now revitalized!!!! Trust me, everyone loves a revitalized SoW.) And wholly inspired by those who CHOOSE to degrade our collective aesthetic environment! Yay!

Mullets are wrong.

So are saucer-size bald spots with the front bit of hair gelled up. Was he thinking he could hide it from most of the public world when seen from the front? From just a slightly elevated view, it looks ridiculous. It's like he's trying to liven up a tonsure.

And then there’s the gypsy girl.

This picture actually makes her look better than her in reality. Some Asian (Chinese, I suspect) chick with a dopey look in her eye and grin to match, about 5’4, a blocky body (I gave her a more defined waist in my pic b/c I can’t draw various body types – very evident that my parents' $ was wasted on my childhood art classes), plus a black oversized windbreaker over the outfit. It was like this block of autumn leaves walking (zig-zagging a bit, so actually it was like this shifting formless blob) towards me. Maybe she doesn’t have a blocky build but the layers of misconstrued pieces of clothing hid any outline of body parts except for the crocheted black cardigan ballet wrap. My god. I did a double-take. I seriously thought she was wearing a bra on top of her long sleeve beige shirt. I dunno if it was a size too small or if it was not worn correctly but that wrap was the only thing that defined a body part – and it was her boobs. It’s like, before stepping out, she took a last look in the mirror and realized in the course of putting herself together, she became a block form and tied on the wrap at the last minute in order to define some curve - and well, she heard boys like boobs.

Adding up all the visual factors, I couldn’t figure out if she had lost her marbles or if she just returned from a pleasing episode of booty call. I couldn’t stop looking until she was out of my sight! For a second I was worried about her but was overcome by being off-putted and slightly terrified as I was afraid she was smiling at me b/c she was gonna approach me about something. I wasn’t afraid of her b/c she looked too dopey to pull a knife on me but I was just afraid that I wouldn’t be able to be cordial.