The Creepiest Sweater Ever?

The Creepiest Sweater Ever?

This is an actual sweater for sale in a store. I don’t really know what the creature woven into the front of it is supposed to be. It looks like a bunch of different weird things, including a flasher, a cockroach, and a cockroach flasher. My boyfriend thinks it looks like an omen in a scary Japanese movie that would pop out from behind trees and shit to remind you of your mortality. Whatever it is, its red eyes and the fact that it looks like it’s fleeing from a predator seriously give me the heebie-jeebies.

Daily Aggravation 48: Theater Kids

Even though I’m in my mid-twenties now, I still have a strong aversion to people who were known as ‘theater kids’ in high school. Don’t get me wrong – I love creative people, and I have a lot of respect for anyone who can get on stage and perform in front of an audience. There’s a certain kind of creative person, though, that annoys me to no end. You know the type – they always have to be the center of attention, they wear Porkpie hats without any trace of irony or sense of humor, and they enjoy playing improv games at parties. They’re JUST the WORST. 

I had an encounter with a theater kid recently in a clothing store. An Etta James song started playing on the radio, and a girl with a Caesar cut, a nose piercing and vaguely orthopedic shoes on started singing along to it like she was auditioning for “A Chorus Line.” I wanted to turn to her and say, “Excuse me, bitch, but you’re making my eardrums bleed with your overly-confident, loud warbling. I don’t see Simon Cowell in the store with us, do you? No, right? Then SHUT your DAMN MOUTH and get the hell out of here! And PS: Linda Hunt called, and she wants her look back.” 

Daily Aggravation 42: Fat-Induced Steampunk Attire

I’m at that golden weight where nothing fits and I look like a kielbasa in heels when I put on a fancy dress. This is problematic, because I’m going to a family member’s wedding next month (!!!) and I’m obviously going to have to wear a dress to it.

Today, as I grunted and struggled to zip up a hot little number I’d ordered on the internet, I came to the terrible realization that I’m going to have to wear a Victorian mourning outfit to the wedding. Damn you, Caramel Frappucinos! Damn you to hell!