photo via briantology
Well, well, well. Hope everybody enjoyed their Memorial Day weekend, partying it up in the yard with your barbeques, thong sandals, and khaki pants. Let’s leave the floral print on your mother-in-law’s curtains, though — that’s where it belongs, and not on your oversized “casual” shirt.
photo via 23bit_grrrl
Are those shapes… drawn on?
photo via adc
“Yamanba (ヤマンバ, Yamanba?) sometimes written as “yamamba”, is a fashion trend among young Japanese women. Starting with the bleached white hair and heavy tan of the ganguro girl, the yamanba adds white lipstick, white eye makeup, and sometimes brightly colored contacts, plastic clothing, and inappropriate accessories. Some yamanba wear stuffed animals as decorations, talk with a slurred speech, and enjoy shiny neon or dayglo colors.”
Looks like Pink got in a fist-fight with a voodoo priest. Which is kind of cool, I guess.
photo via jeremysabol
You’ve found me out: lamé is kind of my favourite thing to hate on.
But this gentleman couldn’t settle for just one fashion fuck-up. He’s paired his lamé shirt — which probably cost upwards of $40 at a local “vintage” store — with pink pants, a friend with a leopard-print jumpsuit (?), and a case of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. A really close look at the original photo also reveals some sort of inverse Hitler moustache. Yikes.
photo via davezilla
I’ll have a tall americano with room, please. And some curds. And maybe some whey. Some whey, wheeeeeey too migraine-inducing to be in public. Holy crap. Did they have a sale on crazy at Joann’s Fabrics or something?
photo via charchen
Alright, ladies. I know some of you might argue with me on this one, but dogs aren’t cute. The ones that are ALIVE aren’t cute. The ones that are pink and flabby and holding your cigarettes — these are terrifying. Put that thing away.
photo via stevevance
Um. On second thought, I don’t want that Protein Boost.
photo via Joe Shlabotnik
I wanted to be a cat for Halloween once, so I found my pile of leopard-print clothes back from when I thought the Manic Street Preachers were the best thing to come out of Wales. I put on a black dress, leopard-print tights, a leopard-print headband, and a leopard-print faux fur coat. Then I went outside. I passed a window on the way to the bus stop and realized that my reflection did not look like a cat. My reflection looked like a street hooker fully intent on giving an Axl Rose look-a-like a blowjob.
I went back and changed. This girl didn’t. If anybody sees Axl, tell him she’s waiting by the punch bowl.
photo via cherylholloway
Let’s ignore the pink-haired woman with the army of muppet fetuses crawling up her legs and move our focus a pinch to the left. No — ignore Raiden. Let’s talk about the balding gentleman in maroon and blue (the colours of his alma mater back on Planet Granola?).
That hairstyle is seriously not optimal.
Wow. Just wow.
photo via chicgeek
It’s like the Eighties went clubbing, drank too many melon balls, and horked all over this mannequin.
