2002-10-23

How is it that every time I go out drinking, I end up with crud under my fingernails the next day? I went out and had three beers last night, and this morning it looks like I've been scrabbling around in the dirt in some sort of orgiastic Bacchanalian frenzy (when in reality that only happens on weekends). I mean, the Dominion is dirty, sure, but it's not THAT dirty.

And I've gotta say this. Public servants? Have NO fashion sense. (Myself excluded, of course. I'm like a walking page out of Vogue over here.) Every day I'm astounded at the complete and utter disregard for aesthetic sensibility displayed by my fellow drones. My favourite "What the FUCK?!" over the summer was the open-toed-strappy-sandals/nylons combination. Listen up, ladies. Yes, nylons do add an air of 'formality' to what you're wearing, making your fugly miniskirt more appropriate for office wear (although it would only REALLY be appropriate on a colour-blind crack whore). And yes, strappy sandals are much more comfortable than pumps in the godawful, muggy Ottawa heat. But that skanky reinforced toe on your nylons, sticking out from the toe of your sandal like a sad little Band-Aid? Makes you look like a mongoloid. I shit you not. Make a note of it.

Mostly I just want to know where these people shop. Where do you go if you want to dress like Mare Winningham's character from St. Elmo's Fire? Where do you find pastel-coloured, floral-patterned sweater vests? And mid-calf-length, flared corduroy skirts? And how do you manage to put this crap on in the morning, then look in the mirror and go, "Yes! YES! That is IT! Damn, I'm foxy! Look out, interdepartmental working group! I'm on FIRE today!"