a guy walks down the street in a long sleeved henley with a button up hawaiian shirt over it.  his hands are tucked into the pockets of the raggiest jeans ever that are so out of date (levi’s pipeleg silvertabs or something) they must be his older brother’s.  he throws me a nod and tells me, “nice outfit” like it means something special coming from him.  i smile weakly and then he says something stupid like, “rad”.

(shoe submission by liz scheer)

if you choose to wear this baby mummy ked you may encounter near to actually violent criticism.  your only shot at escape would be to walk with arms straight out in front of you while loudly booing the aggressive naysayer.  this will frighten the naysayer and grant a window of time that will allow you to get away before they criticize your footwear or try to drive a stake through your heart.  but everyone knows that in order to really destroy a mummy, you have to destroy all pictures, statues and other evidence of it so that it will become totally forgotten.  then its soul would cease to exist. but make no mistake since you are in fact not a mummy, the stake will kill you, and that judgement is certainly gonna sting.  so get booin’.

i’m totally hardcore, it’s just sometimes i need to run down the street to grab some cottage cheese and pineapple from zupan’s.  i rock out like the best of them for sure but…  after a hard night of partying i like to pop a couple doan’s back relief pills and shuffle around the house in a pair of pajama pants and my keds.  and even if i didn’t.  it’s not like i can play guitar hero 5 in platform docs anymore.