Ikea tried to kill me, but it failed. It was just pissed that I didn't like any of its couches. Vengeful retail establishment. I think it got me somewhere in the children's department where I foolishly put my hand on a rug. Then I probably went and did something dumb like rubbed my eye and that was it. That's what gave me a full week of being unable to leave my bed. And you have NO idea what it's like to be stuck in a room inwhich you strongly disklike the paint color. No idea.
So here I am a week later, back in the office for the first time in half a fortnight, bugging the tar out of the coworkers with my hacking.
I wonder what I could do with all the excess tar?
AND I'm getting assaulted with news items like THIS:
(thank you, Brawleys)
Now I love boots as much as the next person, but not enough to replace pants with them. They simply cannot serve the same function, I don't care what kind of climate you come from. There's a reason fly fisherman change back into their normal clothing when they've finished the sport. Walking around town in waders is not practical OR attractive. If men who like to spend their free time standing by themselves in cold rivers playing catch with fish realize this...I feel the fashion world should too.
You can read about this alarming trend here.
