The other day, after we once again expressed our displeasure with leggings, we got an e-mail complaining that we are boring, and saying that no one cares about our stupid rants about them. Clearly, based on the frequency with which celebrities still don them in public, that's at least partially true. So maybe we need to develop some kind of safe word -- an otherwise banal term with no real negative connotations, which we can use so that upon its mere mention, it automatically encapsulates all our usual feelings of enraged betrayal and grief that come with spotting someone out and about in The Spandex Scourge. Something like... zucchini. Or boggle (which, by the way, is really fun to say over and over again). Or Altoids.
Let's try it out:
[Photo: Splash News]
ALTOIDS.
And not just regular Altoids. Hot Altoids. Burning Altoids. Fiery, SCALDING Altoids that have been bedecked with glitter and feisty primary colors, like they're some kind of wearable personalized bowling ball airbrushed by a dude with a mild arson fetish. Altoids I would gladly attempt to knock some sense into by rolling them down a lane toward ten hard pins. Altoids being worn with the kind of tank top you usually see on burly dudes with waxed chests who are flexing in the mirror at the gym between grunting bicep curls. Altoids that still, unfathomably, won't grow out their horrible haircut. ALTOIDS. ALTOOOOOOIDS.
Phew. Okay, that sort of worked. Whenever we use our words around the office -- screaming "ARUGULA" every time the Internet cuts out at an inopportune moment, say, or yelling "PANTS" when we are out of Diet Coke -- they don't usually come with speeches. More like weeping and head-pounding. Still, we're new to this whole choking-back-the-leggings-rage thing. Eventually all we'll need is the one word and you'll feel the flames on the side of our faces.
Let's try it out:
[Photo: Splash News]
ALTOIDS.
And not just regular Altoids. Hot Altoids. Burning Altoids. Fiery, SCALDING Altoids that have been bedecked with glitter and feisty primary colors, like they're some kind of wearable personalized bowling ball airbrushed by a dude with a mild arson fetish. Altoids I would gladly attempt to knock some sense into by rolling them down a lane toward ten hard pins. Altoids being worn with the kind of tank top you usually see on burly dudes with waxed chests who are flexing in the mirror at the gym between grunting bicep curls. Altoids that still, unfathomably, won't grow out their horrible haircut. ALTOIDS. ALTOOOOOOIDS.
Phew. Okay, that sort of worked. Whenever we use our words around the office -- screaming "ARUGULA" every time the Internet cuts out at an inopportune moment, say, or yelling "PANTS" when we are out of Diet Coke -- they don't usually come with speeches. More like weeping and head-pounding. Still, we're new to this whole choking-back-the-leggings-rage thing. Eventually all we'll need is the one word and you'll feel the flames on the side of our faces.
No comments:
Post a Comment