Thursday, November 20

Earlier today I saw a man in a suit backpacking in the metro. A man in his 50's. Backpacking. Isn't there a point where we acknowledge our actual age and stop carrying on like a bunch of whippersnappers? There are plenty of things that I would never wear because I am old enough to have my own "generational movie" (hello, The Wackness, you were my teenage), and I'm not even 30. Or conservative. So when I see what we'll call "a young grandmother" wearing what can only be referred to as the slutty equivalent of a onezie, I want to fight the violent cringing within and desperately run to them saying, "Please God cover that up! Pleaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssseeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!" Which obviously brings us to:

Trampy cougar, you’re
Not Forever 21
You shouldn’t shop there