I just had the following conversation with Heather:
ME: I think I'm going to fug Diane K in her harem knickers at that Chanel event.
HEATHER: Oh, I haven't seen that yet.
ME: It will not surprise you to hear that she looks okay in them, except that they're essentially kind of stupid pants and nobody really looks ACTUALLY okay in them.
HEATHER: You're right. That does not surprise me.
What else is there to say? These harem knickers are fundamentally ridiculous. They are ridiculous the way the sky is blue. And she does look kind of okay in them, which is not to say that they themselves are at all, in any way, fundamentally okay. Her looking okay in them is a riddle wrapped up in a mystery clothed in an enigma. Too brain-twisty for Friday afternoon, if nothing else, and, ergo, a conundrum I refuse to further contemplate.
ME: I think I'm going to fug Diane K in her harem knickers at that Chanel event.
HEATHER: Oh, I haven't seen that yet.
ME: It will not surprise you to hear that she looks okay in them, except that they're essentially kind of stupid pants and nobody really looks ACTUALLY okay in them.
HEATHER: You're right. That does not surprise me.
What else is there to say? These harem knickers are fundamentally ridiculous. They are ridiculous the way the sky is blue. And she does look kind of okay in them, which is not to say that they themselves are at all, in any way, fundamentally okay. Her looking okay in them is a riddle wrapped up in a mystery clothed in an enigma. Too brain-twisty for Friday afternoon, if nothing else, and, ergo, a conundrum I refuse to further contemplate.
