As you can tell, I'm an observer of people. I've noticed a recurring theme among the slice of Americans I get to spend time with on the auto show circuit: a desperate need for more episodes of What Not To Wear and a lack of dietary restraint.
People. Put away the acid wash. I know you're not a hipster because we're in places like Kansas and Alabama and Nebraska and those are the kinds of places where hipsters are called fags and sent to those religious brainwashing camps, and even hipsters and the Kardashians look ridiculous in acid wash.
I know 1988 was your heyday. I know you're proud you can still fit into your jeans from high school. Who cares if you can only do it by hoisting your fupa over the waistband? Who cares if they are absolutely yellow with age and hard water stains?
If you must wear it at all, must you wear every piece you own all at the same time? Is it necessary to pair your acid wash jeans with your acid wash jacket and shirt? There are children in third world countries that are in desperate need of clothing to protect them from the elements, and I would rather you burn this sh!t than send it to them -- they should be spared the same indignity to which you are obliviously subjecting yourselves.
I'm not saying I expect you all in Brooks Brothers suits, Dior dresses and Burberry coats. Just go to Target and buy a pair of $30 normal wash jeans, for crying out loud. Welcome to the new millennium.
And for Christ's sake make sure they fit without the fupa hoist. Want to know how to avoid the fupa hoist? Stop eating breakfast at McDonald's, lunch at Taco Bell and dinner at Denny's. In fact, just avoid anything on this website. I don't know how many times I've heard the same people that b!tch about the seats being too small make snide comments about what we booth babes must do to keep fit figures.
These comments are generally made with mouths full of nachos and cups full of Orange Crush. Yes, obviously I must snort buckets of cocaine in order to not blow up like something floating over Manhattan at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Or maybe it's because I didn't inhale 3 blocks of Ryba's fudge today? (This wouldn't be such an issue for me if these people weren't making nasty comments about us... and if my monthly health insurance premiums weren't the equivalent of a car payment because of other people's diet-induced heart disease and diabetes.)
So. No acid wash jeans. No fupa. Lay off the nachos -- especially while in the cars, please. The last thing I need is to slide into the backseat to talk to the next person and land in a pile of your nasty fake liquid cheese product. You don't want to know how hard it is to find late night, overnight dry cleaning in middle America.
I'll expect you spic and span at the start of auto show season in November.
