Cows are shockingly expensive.
This update has only two purposes to it, and I will make every attempt not to deviate from those purposes. They are as follows:
1. To impart my observations on runway modeling.
2. To describe what will forever be known as The Amazing Pants Trick.
Okay, the other day I happened upon the Style network on TV. I don't typically enjoy destroying brain cells by watching the runway videos that they often show on this channel, but I found myself fixated in absolute horror upon this particular program. If you're fortunate enough to have missed out on this experience, it goes something like this: Tacky techno music is blaring. A 9-foot tall, 40-pound women emerges. She is wearing something that looks like a purple fishing net. And galoshes. She has about six inches of eyeliner on and her hair is piled atop her head and encased in something that resembles a lampshade. You think to yourself, "WHO IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WOULD ACTUALLY GO OUT IN PUBLIC LIKE THAT." She prances down the runway, reaches the end, and stares blankly into the camera for a second (allowing for an uncomfortably clear view of her bloodshot eyes and sallow complexion). You wonder where she buys all that cocaine. She retreats, no doubt to adjourn to a restroom and bid farewell to that morning's Slim Fast. A 9-foot tall, buff gentleman with a carefully macho gait appears. He is wearing pinstriped capri pants and a fuchsia fur coat. AND eyeliner. You try to picture your next-door neighbor/best friend/pool boy in that getup and succumb to a fit of laughter. The lad pauses and shoots the camera a smoldering, angsty sort of look before turning and strolling casually away.
It is a strange and disturbing ritual. And it makes me want to eat a very large sandwich.
....
*has returned from eating a very large sandwich*
Now onto my second topic. Last night I went to watch DCI Quarterfinals broadcast live via satellite. It was a lot of fun (but no details. No deviating from the purposes). One of the many highlights was a clip from the Santa Clara Vanguard's 1994 performance. They had a little tent-like tunnel thing set up on the field--about ten feet long--and the entire horn line appeared to be marching through the tunnel and, of course, emerging on the other thing. The phenomenal aspect of this is that when they went in, they had black pants on. And when they came out, they had white pants on. Keep in mind that, at the pace they were going, each person spent about 2 seconds inside the tunnel and out of sight. How they accomplished this is beyond me, but I will always think of it as The Amazing Pants Trick.
If you're wondering why I'm carefully avoiding any details besides what I've just described, it's because too many things have happened in the last few days, most of which I have no reason to discuss here, and would rather avoid thinking about. Except for the fact that I went to the Howard County Fair this evening and tried to buy a cow. But that's it.
1. To impart my observations on runway modeling.
2. To describe what will forever be known as The Amazing Pants Trick.
Okay, the other day I happened upon the Style network on TV. I don't typically enjoy destroying brain cells by watching the runway videos that they often show on this channel, but I found myself fixated in absolute horror upon this particular program. If you're fortunate enough to have missed out on this experience, it goes something like this: Tacky techno music is blaring. A 9-foot tall, 40-pound women emerges. She is wearing something that looks like a purple fishing net. And galoshes. She has about six inches of eyeliner on and her hair is piled atop her head and encased in something that resembles a lampshade. You think to yourself, "WHO IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WOULD ACTUALLY GO OUT IN PUBLIC LIKE THAT." She prances down the runway, reaches the end, and stares blankly into the camera for a second (allowing for an uncomfortably clear view of her bloodshot eyes and sallow complexion). You wonder where she buys all that cocaine. She retreats, no doubt to adjourn to a restroom and bid farewell to that morning's Slim Fast. A 9-foot tall, buff gentleman with a carefully macho gait appears. He is wearing pinstriped capri pants and a fuchsia fur coat. AND eyeliner. You try to picture your next-door neighbor/best friend/pool boy in that getup and succumb to a fit of laughter. The lad pauses and shoots the camera a smoldering, angsty sort of look before turning and strolling casually away.
It is a strange and disturbing ritual. And it makes me want to eat a very large sandwich.
....
*has returned from eating a very large sandwich*
Now onto my second topic. Last night I went to watch DCI Quarterfinals broadcast live via satellite. It was a lot of fun (but no details. No deviating from the purposes). One of the many highlights was a clip from the Santa Clara Vanguard's 1994 performance. They had a little tent-like tunnel thing set up on the field--about ten feet long--and the entire horn line appeared to be marching through the tunnel and, of course, emerging on the other thing. The phenomenal aspect of this is that when they went in, they had black pants on. And when they came out, they had white pants on. Keep in mind that, at the pace they were going, each person spent about 2 seconds inside the tunnel and out of sight. How they accomplished this is beyond me, but I will always think of it as The Amazing Pants Trick.
If you're wondering why I'm carefully avoiding any details besides what I've just described, it's because too many things have happened in the last few days, most of which I have no reason to discuss here, and would rather avoid thinking about. Except for the fact that I went to the Howard County Fair this evening and tried to buy a cow. But that's it.