So, with nothing better to do yesterday evening after having watched the latest episode of Gossip Girl (don’t judge me), I decided to (use my mom’s credit card to) treat myself to a new pair of glasses. Surprisingly, the whole process of finalizing the transaction was exceptionally difficult seeing as it necessitated that I measure the distance between my pupils (the fuck eh?) in order to ensure that the prescription on my lenses was as accurate as possible. How an eyewear company expects a lazy 17 year-old to measure his pupillary distance with a simple paper ruler (#ratchetalert) is unknown to me, but miraculously I prevailed. How? By at last putting to test the totes useful mathematical notions of similar measures (or some shit like that) that I learned in grade 9 Math. Pure genius, if you ask me.
If it weren’t already crystal clear (pun #1), after 3 long years of dedicated service, I’ve finally decided to retire my Malcolm X-style glasses to a part-time status of “get on my two-pairs-of-glasses level”, and instead invest full-time in a pair of crystal frames simply because I’m sick of running into people wearing the same glasses as me. As much as I love being able to yell “twinsies” any time I find myself matching a friend (or a hipster stranger/hobo), that shit certainly don’t fly when it comes to my glasses. Having originally gotten them last decade (aka the summer of ’09) before they became the “it” eyewear for OG-hipsters and wannabe-hipsters alike , it’s only natural that I’m no longer particularly thrilled when I run into someone wearing the very glasses that I’ve been sporting even before it became a fucking hipster trend. As trite of a complaint as that may sound, aren’t all my rants nothing more but banal write-ups of the bitching and moaning I (proudly) do all day long? Rhetorical questions aside, I’m as done with simply being another hipster wearing Malcom X-style glasses as Sammi was with Ronnie throughout all of Jersey Shore. I’m “RAHN, STAP IT. I’M DUN. D–U-fucking-N, DUN.” Seriously though, unless you actually wear glasses out of necessity (instead of totes ironic style), you don’t understand how disheartening it is to see that someone dun’ obvi jacked your glasses-swag. My nigga Malcolm would definitely agree. Totes.
Bitches, I see you, clearly. (pun#2)
I honestly don’t even know why I chose these crystal glasses. I guess it’s sorta the hipster appeal of having something before it becomes mainstream that naturally got me. Or maybe it’s simply the fact that the glasses are transparent, and that’s totes avant and shit. Either way, it essentially comes down to me wanting to have my own defined style in any aspect of my appearance, be it through something as over-the-top as the milestone in my materialism that is my pseudo-collection of 30 pairs of shoes, or something as practical as the stuff I sorta need to see shit clearly (pun #3). Though I’m super excited to receive my glasses and finally have a pair of glasses that doesn’t scream “try-hard” or “failed wannabe civil rights activist”, I’m exceptionally anxious to see how they’ll actually look on me. As #totesamaze as they looked on the models, I’m sorta black, and consequently not white nor a model. Oh well, if ever the frames look like shit, at least I can say my parents payed them!
Ahhh, if only I had a crystal glass to see into the future. (pun #3)
(lol forgive the shittiness: I dun’ tried)
Oh yeah, if ever I don’t do a post after having received the crystal glasses, it’s because they looked like shit on me.
On verra. (pun #4)
PUNZ 4 ALL THO
So, this song is pretty much the shit. Though my sister posted it on Facebook something like a week ago, I had no choice ignored it because she obvi had just gotten it from Majestic Casual, and because, as the self-professed music lover of the family, I refuse to listen to the music recommendations of my sisters. Clearly (pun #5), I was wrong. Scratch that, no fucking shit was I wrong. Despite my stupidity, I’m so glad I finally clicked the link to this song, and was consequently exposed to its musical bounty. I mean, who can say no to a chopped n’ screwed Rihanna punctuated by a shit-ton of deep bass? No one, ever. Plus, the guy that masterfully remixed this track is from Laval. Excuse the pretension, but Montreal (and it’s suburbz) represent!