U-G-L-Y, You Don’t Have No Alibi!

As the days get short and the weather gets nippy, one article of normcore clothing slays all others and steals their power.

The Highlander.

The Ugly Christmas Sweater.

No longer relegated to grandmothers and elementary-schoolmarms, the sweater has been co-opted by hipsters. They openly mock the older generation’s veneration of this seasonal atrocity.

When the trend began, the sweater had to be thrifted. Fighting other desperate twentysomethings at Goodwill in December was a rite of passage. One needed a heinous example of the Genuine Article.

Now ugly Christmas items are generated by designers, on computers, and screen printed onto tees. Prefabricated ones in different themes are everywhere. You can get ugly Christmas sweaters with robots, dinosaurs, Birthday Jesus, or NFL teams. You can even get one that says “Shitter’s Full.” (It’s from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.)

I’ve spent the last week at work focusing my attention on crafting a Penn State themed one. I took tiny v’s and assembled them, v by v, into designs that looked like snowmen, reindeer, snowflakes, trees, etc. Here’s the resulting hideous baby. I rather love it.

I bought one for my grandmother, and she told me with watery eyes that it was beautiful.

Here are some more things Nana would cry over.


Reindeer earrings, $28; Christmas fascinator, $45; Wine bottle holder, $27; Cat shirt, $12-20; Leggings, $15; Holiday Nikes, $250-300ish; and my Penn State Holiday Crew, $20-24.

I think mostly she would cry over the price of the Nikes. They’ve been discontinued, but still.

As Flight of the Conchords pointed out, Why are we still paying so much for sneakers, when you got them made by little slave kids? What are your overheads?

Shopping at the Goodwill is definitely cheaper.


Lunatics, devils, and vampires, oh my! : The Week In Media

We delve into the historical/supernatural this week. Knitted creatures flit about. Vampires and demons live stylish, modern lives. And, as is the case with this blog, the lunatics are running the asylum.


The past few weeks have included the Great Gatsby soundtrack, Little Big Planet 3, Horns, The Only Lovers Left Alive, Stonehearst Asylum, and the Bone Clocks. If you’re interested in any of that, read on…

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A Pole Dancing Class Might Be Next

No Thanksgiving break is complete until your mother has seen you twerk. (Miley Cyrus’ holidays are always full to the brim.)

My mom took me to Zumba today. The class had three attendees: Mom, me, and a chick who looked eerily like me.

The instructor cheerfully told us that she had a bunch of different types of music, including “Iggy.” (She and Iggy Azalea are on a first name basis.)

About halfway through the lesson, the instructor delivered on her pop music promise.

For reference, dear readers, this is Iggy.


(To quote Chamillionaire: “Her face is the Mona Lisa; her ass is a masterpiece.”)

The move we did in class was this:


I glanced over at Mom, who was not dropping nearly low enough to get the effect.

Come on, Mom, I mentally telegraphed to my 60-year-old mother. Throw in some sex appeal.

I went hard to demonstrate. Because a girl’s gotta work off that turkey.

That wasn’t the only way I embarrassed myself in Zumba.

I also tormented the tango and fucked up the flamenco. I slaughtered salsa. I ransacked reggaeton. I butchered Bollywood.

As the class wound down, I told the instructor that I owed India an apology.


“I besmirched their way of life,” I uttered through a thick sweat-cocoon.

“You should come to my country,” she said. “We could teach you some Indonesian dance steps.”

“I really wouldn’t want to offend your culture in that way,” I replied for laughs.

But also for real.

My affront to a billion people inspired me to make the above collage. The items are, if you’re interested, a map of New Delhi ($29), three bangles (1, 2, 3), a sari scarf ($44), jhumka earrings ($108); and a Banjara handbag ($90).

They’re all from Etsy, so even if your dance skills are socially insensitive, at least your shopping habits won’t be.


Top 10 Uplifting Willie Thoughts

Mom was so sick this week that she went to the Everything Smells Like Sterile Tubing place.

She’s back, but catching up on work-stuff, so I’m going to take over today.

Behold: my top 10 uplifting thoughts, with guest words from a few of my pals.


10. You worry too much about your appearance. I would love to lick your sweat and taste the inside of your mouth, no matter what the circumstances. If you are still worried, you can enhance your appearance by holding a tennis ball or plate of bacon.


9. Dream big. When people ask you what you want to be when you grow up, tell them, “a dragon or Beyoncé. Whichever is more complicated to attain.”


(Chubbs adds:) Fart proudly. Crop-dust the entire land and totally own up to it. It’s just butts. We all have ‘em. Continue reading


Fugly Clothing I Have Worn

My long history of sartorial choices has me shocked I’ve ever had sex.

In middle school, I wore floral overalls everywhere. While those tumbled in the wash, I swapped in a sunflower crop top.

Next up were sweet-ass plaid bell-bottoms. What does one pair with such a garment? Everything — obviously.

Graduating up to high school meant evolving my style. Why walk in one’s pants when one can swim?


The week of my 30th birthday, I dumped three huge garbage bags off at the Goodwill. Turns out I’m still unable to pick ‘em.

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Pretty pictures and sass-mouth since 1984