10.2.5
Alright, so dig it. Don't know about you, but I'm beginning to get tired of all these girls running around all over the place without any sense of style whatsoever.
Example: I just love seeing a PYT go into a club, all decked out, makeup just right, and wearing a trucker hat. Sheesh. Nothing against the trucker hats; truckers have been wearing 'em for years as that perfect compliment to their already spicy fashion repertoire. Just know when to wear one. After lunch at the Maxx: Sure. Messing it up Old School at London: Probably not.
And guys, please don't dress like you took advice from the Maxim photo shoot at the back of the magazine (if you actually made it that far). That caca is for the I-have-blond-highlights-and-brown-goatee set. Clubbin' it up, dancin' the night away at Dublin's and all that cool excitement. The striped shirt and jeans combo can only be done so many ways, let me tell you. And baggy is for my 7th grade 'gangster' cousin.
I have a fashion tip. Two words:
Cardigan. You'd be surprised.
And please, please, please, don't you dare believe a magazine's advice on how to 'pick up' women. Goodness. Perhaps there's more to dating than just trying to get her in the buff, so to speak. Manners are very much still held in high regard when wooing a Lady-In-The-Know. At least they are for us girls who who are In-The-Know-Better.
There's a reason why some boys have entire bookshelves full of these magazines while other boys have, well, girlfriends.
Vero says: "I've always been a husband-beater kinda girl. Maybe I'm just partial to the name. Either way, don't forget to check out the catalog and represent. Until next time! Al rato!"
lates,
Veronica
Love Triumphant
Because When You Live With Boys....
Sometime '06
Ah, love. You spend your days searching for it, and nothing. You go through the day, everyday, and everything around you -your car, your clothes, what you had for lunch -all of it reminds you just how lonely you are, how terribly alone everyone is, and of just how close we are to ending up like this forever. And one day, it turns out to be all too much, and you stop looking and decide to pretend that there are other things more important, like money and food. And so you learn to forget, and the days pass and blend into one long dreamy mess. You go to work and you come home, and then you come home and you go to work.
And then, one day, all at once beautiful, there he is. He'll be there, in the long glance of a forgotten co-worker or in the stumblings of a cashier. And then, my word, and then! And then, the world changes and you sit and you try hard to remember, and yet you cannot even imagine ever feeling lonely about anything at all. And you go through the day, everyday, and everything around you -your car, your clothes, what you had for lunch -all of it serves to remind you just how lovely you are, how terribly lovely we all are, and of how close we all are to ending up like this forever.
G
I met G as he was leaving a bar across from the shop. He smelled like vanilla and hair.
He said, "Are you with me?"
I said, "No."
"Do you want to be?" he said.
We went out a couple times, but the days grew into weeks into months until, like a Nissan 240, we drifted.
J
Let me tell you how it ended: my name is NOT Vanessa.
A
We used to watch Dodger games at the shop as he poured me cream soda and listened to me complain that Derek Lowe was no ace and J.D. Drew was no Shawn Green. He would nod and smile. Sigh.
j
The problem with guys is that they remember to be ambitious. Alone and vulnerable, they need all the help they can get. Mon premier et vrai amour.
And so? Have we learned anything from all of this? Of course not. Let me tell you, honey, that all love is is just lies, pain, and sorrow. So, at least, until tomorrow, I, I'll never fall in love again.
Until next month, Choopamaniacs.
