Girls On Film.

Well first of all I might as well just come out and say it, that I absolutely have no feeling whatsoever for Japanese fashion. None. Not even a whisper. It's become so entirely derivative and tangential (some lawyer I work with fancies that word) that I can't pay it any mind at all. Julian had the good sense to "re-market" "re-tooled" Ministry concert tees from the early nineties. Daring and Brash! But something I threw away 11 years ago noneheless, and nothing I fancy dropping $200 on today. CDG will get out of it's death bed to colab with Florsheim, and Diet Butcher Slim Skin is a far too tattered and distressed nod to the goth kids to gain my favor. Shall I even get into Yohji Yamamoto, or do we think we all get the general idea?

It may be a Seattle thing I don't know, but whatever it is it will make me laugh. I house an entire CDG boutique in one of my storage units so I know I'm not just being cruel and petty. I've just grown weary with anything that has even the slightest whiff of desperation. Adidas colab anyone? Anyone?
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Muffin and I have been having the funnest time with baseball. First we had the All-Star game which we refused to watch into the 6 extra innings before the AL (predictably) won. The Yanks have pasted the scurrilous A's in the first two games of their series. On Friday night the Yanks pulled ahead with a 6-1 lead, and then RoRo decided to hit one of his oh so helpful homos making the lead 7-1. Do you remember the last time RoRo hit a homo that actually mattered? Yesterday's game went into extra innings and while the bases were loaded in the 11th or 12th or whatever, JoJo (the flowepot girl) took an inside pitch right square on her knee for a walk off walk I guess one could say. It was weird, but a "W" for the girls regardless.

Richie Sexson, is it, the person who may be playing first base, and may not be attractive enough for the job, may actually be referred to as Anne Sexton from now on. I just can't seem to manage anything else at the moment. I'm working on Annie, but time will I suppose tell.

Sunday brunch at IHOP awaits.