Man, have I mentioned this before?
All that happens in fall is white girls squee at their adorbs new trench and they just can’t even over this never ending pumpkin. There are jackets to be worn and blisters to be sprouted from the boots we have to be having but apparently these days we call them booties and we wear them with our ankle pants.
Are those really a thing?
These pants claim to be worth $110. And they are also called ankle pants.
Versus the pants that don’t go to your ankles. I assume they are called ankle pants as if to say, hey look, there are my ankles.
My mother had a word for those.
$110 for floods. Probably double for those hooker shoes there.
I digress. Do you SEE what fall does to me??
Desperate to hold on to summer, Jim and I planned a weekend getaway for his birthday. Then some fool set fire to an FAA facility and grounded half the flights in the nation.
So we did this instead.
If that’s not clear, we had a bunch of booze, posed outside ugly sculptures, and sucked in our guts while we gleefully smiled in front of a fancy boat.
It held on for the celebration of Jim.
Thank you summer!
Fall may begin.