i own a pair of uggs. i know what you are thinking, and yes i hate myself too. but i cant help it. they are so warm and comfortable. they are like placing your feet in a toasted marshmellows dipped in clouds. and lately i've found myself in a fashion slump, i just throw on a plaid button up, leggings, and flats ( LINDSAY LOHAN IS MY FASHION GODDESS) and call it a day. a really BUSTED day, but a day nonetheless. and like maybe im giving myself too much credit, its not like i was that fashionable before anyway? so like uggs really fit in easily with my new lifestyle choice of bumming it out (and whoring it up, AMITOTALLYRITE?). If sweaties and uggs were socially acceptable at Lang you best believe you would never see me in anything else. But instead I am cursed with hipsters and forever plagued by their effortless fashions.   everytime those uggs are on my feet, i feel compelled to tell everyone that that yeah im wearing uggs, and i know they suck. i'm like the fat kid in school who makes fun of himself first before anyone else gets the opportunity. but hey kate moss was def never the fat kid, and i obvi look like kate moss when i wear my uggs.

but anyway, i recently found this site lookbook.nu. and fuck has it taken over my life. im obsessed with it. whenever i need to really feel bad about myself i just look at that site because i cant nor ever will be as cute as anyone on it. honestly i guess i could like blindfold myself and throw on a bunch of random shit and call it cool like all these pretty skinny bitches on this site already do.  as if the uggs werent enough, i hate myself even more because i am sitting around in my uggs looking at this site wishing i wasnt wearing uggs but instead wearing like some metallic sweater that i found on the streets of paris that used to belong to some psychotic meth addict or something. as long as i call it vintage though, its totally fucking hip. 

i found lookbook while i was reading this fashion blog by a 12 year old. yeah, a fucking 12 year old. when i was that age, i was more concerned about what pog i was going to buy that weekend instead of the fucking rodarte tights that the designers personally made for me. fuck her. whatever, because i know in whatever bumblefuck state she lives in those other 12 year olds that go to her school totally swirlie her for looking like the pigeon lady from mary poppins. (I'M NOT BITTER THAT SHE IS COOLER THAN ME AT ALL.) fuck i should go there myself and swirlie her cunt ass.

whatever, at least my uggs will never judge me.