Like Tree Trunks
For those of you not living in the greater LA or NY areas, Barney’s, that bastion of fancy clothings for liberal elites, hosts a semi-annual warehouse sale in which gay things like suits, scarves, designer jeans, and men are on steep discount. I mean steep. We’re talking 80%-90% here. That being said, when the suit that you have your eye on starts at $2,500 in the first place, 80%-90% off starts to seem less like a huge steal, and more like a month’s groceries. This, however, certainly does not stop me from spending money I do not have. (Hey! The President asked me to, so who am I to refuse? Plus - it gives me the chance to flash my sexytime Barney’s Card.)So, I ventured twice, TWICE into the bowels of hell, (the basement of the Barney’s Co-Op on the seediest block of 17th Street… well… as seedy as 17th can get - oh shut up), to get a good look at the glorious fruit of capitalism lying in piles before me. John Varvatos, Michael Kors, 7forallmankind, Prada/Gucci/Versace, all of my rich friends lay on the dusty floor of what I could only describe as a steam pipe trunk distribution venue. Meanwhile, there are gays, (they’re all gays, there are no straight men at the Barney’s sale), stripping anarchically in the aisles, and nearly throwing acid in each other’s faces for a pair of red suede Miu Mius. It really is my favorite place in the world.
At any rate, I saw an amazing Barney’s brand suit, khaki-colored, microsuede, beautiful tailoring, &c. It was already marked down 50% and was red-tagged for another 50% off, blah blah blah salecakes. I stripped anarchically in the aisle, and tried on the pants, which made me feel bad about my waistline, but not bad enough that 20 bucks at my drycleaners wouldn’t take care of. So I clawed the eyes out of some gay vulture who was stalking my find, paid for my suit (sexytime credit card!), and went directly home and to my drycleaner to get the pants altered. I got the waist taken out an undisclosable amount, and had them hem the legs. And then I tried it on.
Dudes. My legs are like tree trunks. And I know the rumors about me having a smooth-flat surface, and all, but these pants left NOTHING to the imagination. So, I’m now left with the dilemma of returning to my tailor and asking their advice on how to make my crotch look smaller/how to sew extra fabric onto these poor pants that are just barely making their way over my tree trunks, or keeping the damn suit in my closet for the next 3 years, and feeling guilty every time I open my closet door. (No commentary, please.)
GUH. I hate my life.
But on the bright side, ECONOMY SOLVED!
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Comments
Seriously. First I get an image of a bulging cock-in-pants, and then immediately thereafter I’m humming that Extra’s song “…chubby little loser…”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jv6mEv_rDdE
At work, mind you. Oh, and no offense. Free association cannot be stopped.
I almost saw the bulge but thank god the tailor’s curtain blocked off what I force myself to imagine as nothing more than a smooth, flat surface.
Please never use the words “crotch” and “tree trunk” in the same post again, Denny. I will die.