Yep that woud be me prowling the car park late at night desperately smokin' one fag after another.
Cigarettes are meant to be smoked at leisure whilst reclining on one's bed, affording one the pleasure of idly watching the smoke coat the walls, ceiling and personal accoutrements so dear to one's heart with that oh so subtle tinge of yellow to which every fashionable decorator aspires. Smoking should be accompanied by music and preferably with a glass of alcohol of one's choice. Upon arising one should be able to inhale the aroma of the coffee as it brews, whilst chain smoking the 10 to 15 cigarettes necessary to replenish the overnight loss of nicotine. Bliss.
BUT FUCKIN' NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Step away from the music, step away from the coffee, step away from the friggin' air conditioning and get your ass outside into the oppressive heat where you furtively suck the life from the fag you clutch in your fingers as if you've just been ordered to abandon ship and the fag is, in fact, your only lifeline, shark repellent, lifeboat etc etc. Where is the joy in this?
Which leads us to thought of me in a slip, okay it's actually a dress but if you ask the Fashion Avenger I'm sure she would characterise it as the sort of garment worn by a ho in a spectacularly tacky house of ill repute. The hat is my attempt to lend just a bit of style and mystery to the entire undertaking. But of course the hat band is festooned with skulls (thanks, Jen for the laces) which I reckon, if the sight of me in a slip isn't enough, will scare away any Texas chainsaw nutters.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment