A Changing World

The world is changing. And sometimes, it changes in leaps and bounds rather than incremental ticks and tocks.

A prime example is that of our mutual friend "Ichabod." Well, let's call him Ichabod anyway.

There are certain thresholds that many of the male gender promise to themselves never to cross. But then either curiosity or a woman beguiles them to eschew their otherwise rock-hard principles.

Such was the case with Ichabod the other night. His first foray into this unknown world was when he was reassured and even beguiled by attractive women to buy "skinny" jeans. Sure, they were labeled "slim" jeans, but he knew what this was all about. He entered the fitting room a curious man, and left a redefined beast of modernity. Some might just call him a metro.

The skinny jeans fit by the way and didn't even look skinny. Or maybe he was just equivocating to make himself feel better about his dwindling masculinity. But the jeans were just the beginning.

Later that evening while flipping through the channels he saw a title he had sworn to never read, watch, or even do anything to except ridicule as often as possible: Twilight. He flipped to Twilight and then quickly back to some show called "The World's Most Haunted Places," so that he could click the 'recall' button, promising himself an avenue of escape if the movie turned out to suck as much as he had been led to believe.

He watched the whole thing. And while it was at times mind-numbing, and terribly absurd, the stinging rebuke that stayed with him was that he didn't hate it. What had happened to this man Ichabod? Was he still a man? Or had he morphed into a self-loathing, shiny vampire promoting, ball of sexual ambiguity?

Who knows?

But what thing we can be certain of is that he purchased skinny jeans, watched Twilight, and then didn't hate it.Step 1 - Ichabod wears questionable "skinny jeans."

Step 2 - Jeans become leggings. Jeaggings.

Step 547 - What happened to step 3?

Step 548 - You've gone and done it now.

Living the Emo life

I am trying to limit my posting to 3-4 times a week, but sometimes I just really need to do it out of schedule. And, it helps when I think I have a good topic. Some of you might like it anyway. I'd like to delve into women's fashion for a moment. Wait, it's not what you think. I'm talking about women's fashion for men. That's right. I'm sure you've seen them, strutting their stuff down the street in women's country club shoes (keds and other canvas loafers) and sporting women's pants. So as not to appear straight up transvestite, the term to describe the pants is "skinny pants." That sounds so much better. I mean isn't that what all real men are really concerned with? Their skinniness?

To be honest and frank, as is my custom, I must attest to the fact that I have not yet experienced the supposed feminine joy of wearing skinny pants. They just look way to comfortable. And for me, with my svelt girlish figure it would just make me another piece of eye candy for those who prescribe to the emaciated Ethiopian refugee Abercrombie and J Crew models' look. And, I'm sure the pants would make my butt look big.

But as for the black nail polish, eye shadow and whiney music; I'm all for it. I look sexy in dark hues and tears. And, so does anyone with a lot of emotional baggage, or feigned baggage. In fact, you can feign baggage so much easier when you look like a cross between scarecrow, Edwards Scissorhands and Marilyn Manson.

I prefer Charles. But that is neither here nor there. And then you can scream your heart out to Fall Out Boy and lurk behind graffiti plastered back alley walls waiting for your friends to come hang out so you can talk about how horrible your day was. It's a dream life really. Ah, to live the Emo dream.