i have this thing for socks. like, weird, funky, what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking socks. its kat(y)ie thing really, i dont expect anyone else to understand. except maybe kim, our dads have the same christmas gift buying mentality. so anyway, one night, like a week or two ago, im all showered and lying in bed trying not to have a clausto-coffin attack when katy calls me. and you have to imagine this conversation occurring in whispers. without asterisks. and with me trying to do a napoleon dynamite accent...
Y: dude, we just walked into fish and guess whos here?
IE: why do i care? okokokok, whos there?
Y: dude, j**** is here and karisa is freaking out.
IE: what!?!? who alls there?
Y: me, karisa, j****, m* and ***q** *** *a. karisa is losing it.
IE: I AM ON MY WAY RIGHT NOW!!!
everyone thought i was there to console karisa. i just wanted to rowdy and yell a few cuss words. maybe throw a drink or two. which i guess in a way, would be consoling her, cause id be doing it in her honor. im a real knight like that sometimes, ya know? so anyway, i had jumped outta bed, switch the pajama bottoms to jeans, threw on a sweatshirt and was out the door. but, i had totally forgotten that i was rocking these bad boys:
yes, those really are bunny heads on my socks. and yes, those socks are wool. i guess it really doesnt matter though, cause i was wearing dunks. and dunks negate any fashion crime that you could ever conceive of committing.
but my faves right now are my candyland striped tights bought straight outta the little girls section of super walmart in valrico, florida.
and yeah, thats right, i said valrico. i know you shook now. anywho. i totally serve thangs proper when im rocking those. i mean really, take a good look, those tights are totally unservable. theyre so hot, i even gots bitches lickin my legs yo. those adidas-esque stripes you see are none other than shauna bent over, taking a little taste. of my ankle. (shes not real good with anatomy.)
we have been trying to stay away from fish, albeit unsuccessfully. tonight, i ate dinner with michelle at mary-anne's mexican joint and the bouncer of fish totally walked in with his girlfriend. even when i dont go to fish, fish comes to me.
until next time, put your number on this paper, cause i would love date ya, holla atcha when i come off tour...