Clothes (or: why I enjoy fashion but still like girls [or: how i learned to inflate my blog entry count] )

There is something fantastic about looking dapper. It’s often said that you look the way you feel, and though you’d assume that this is some outer reflection of how you are feeling emotionally on the inside, it can very much be the very inverse. That being, sometimes looking damn good on the outside makes you feel damn good on the inside. Once upon a time, I was deeply emasculated by my penchant for nice clothes. I worried that perhaps if I matched those shoes with my shirt too well, I might like boys. When puberty took me and my manhood (I mean that in more than one way) by the reigns, and my fondness for high fashion held true, I decided to embrace it shamelessly. Or at least, it was shameless, until I started writing this blog. Whose idea was this? I like girls. Pinky swear.

I’m seriously wondering what I’m going to write for the remainder of this blog now that I got my zippy intro out of the way. Mrs. A doesn’t read these, and I’m already 200 words in so I might as well seal the deal. Stream of consciousness? Go, go, and go (I had go, go, go but Microsoft Word told me it wasn’t grammatically correct). I like looking different than other people. Not just because I’m a douchebag hipster wannabe, although mind you that is absolutely what I am, but because the way most people dress is total poop and I like to look neat. I kiss girls sometimes so I'm still manly just reminding you. There’s also something real coolio about looking mighty fine in a nice dress clothes ensemble. I’m currently wearing a super snazzy blazer I purchased from Goodwill along with an exceptionally stylish shirt and tie, with vans on my feet to make it casual. That really illustrates my point, right? Right. 300 words. I like clothes. Wowza thanks for stopping by, you’re all the bomb! Don't forget that I like girls!