Miscellany and clothing
Apr. 23rd, 2008 01:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bliumchikSo, The Mars Volta. Does anyone here actually understand their lyrics? I mean, they sound great, sure, but. You know, at least "televators" and "capulary" could conceivably be derived from real words. What the fuck is a manupod?
Oops. I thought it was funny. In a, you know, morbid and cynical sort of way. Irony!
So you know that bandom superhero AU I wasn't writing? Um. Maybe I did. A little. More like speculation. Still to come, Mikeyway is psychic and Frank blows shit up.
Every so often I do a clean-out of my wardrobe, and every time it's the same deal.
First it's the sorting process. "Keep, keep, Salvo's, keep, what the fuck why do I even own this, keep, keep, um... fine, it might come in handy, keep, Salvo's, ...this isn't even mine, Salvo's, keep, keep, dusters, keep... yay done! I can has space!"
Then I look around my room and realise it looks like Milan exploded, so I bug my dad till he finds me some large plastic bags to dump the unwanted things in, and dump the rest in my wardrobe "to sort and hang later," for a given value of "later" that actually means "never."
Next, I dump the bags outside with a pre-emptive announcement that yes, I am absolutely sure, mum, that I will never wear anything in the bags, mum, for whatever reasons, and I know this because they're my clothes, mum.
And finally, my mother comes in with a dress and a pair of jeans saying "But this is so nice! I bought you this six years ago! I bought this for myself but misjudged the size so I gave it to you! Did you try this on? I'm sure we can take it in. You need these!"
Oops. I thought it was funny. In a, you know, morbid and cynical sort of way. Irony!
So you know that bandom superhero AU I wasn't writing? Um. Maybe I did. A little. More like speculation. Still to come, Mikeyway is psychic and Frank blows shit up.
Every so often I do a clean-out of my wardrobe, and every time it's the same deal.
First it's the sorting process. "Keep, keep, Salvo's, keep, what the fuck why do I even own this, keep, keep, um... fine, it might come in handy, keep, Salvo's, ...this isn't even mine, Salvo's, keep, keep, dusters, keep... yay done! I can has space!"
Then I look around my room and realise it looks like Milan exploded, so I bug my dad till he finds me some large plastic bags to dump the unwanted things in, and dump the rest in my wardrobe "to sort and hang later," for a given value of "later" that actually means "never."
Next, I dump the bags outside with a pre-emptive announcement that yes, I am absolutely sure, mum, that I will never wear anything in the bags, mum, for whatever reasons, and I know this because they're my clothes, mum.
And finally, my mother comes in with a dress and a pair of jeans saying "But this is so nice! I bought you this six years ago! I bought this for myself but misjudged the size so I gave it to you! Did you try this on? I'm sure we can take it in. You need these!"
