Do you have a lighter?

Now that I live in Los Angeles, I encounter celebrities. Not regularly mind you, but it happens sometimes. Like erectile dysfunction.

Usually when I encounter a celebrity, I don't even realize until I see the paparazzi (p.s. they all look exactly the same to me… is that discrimination to say it out loud?). I then let out an audible sigh.

Almost always, I have the same thought when I see a celebrity and I don’t know from where in the dark recesses of my mind this comes.

"I want to light her hair on fire."

I’m sorry but before that ended terribly and tragically, it’d be pretty funny, right? She’d be whipping her hair all over the place, synthetic extensions curling up and melting. Some girl in the entourage would catch her wet look leggings on fire from the stray ashes. There would be a moment where no one knows whether or not to laugh or cry. A bodyguard would eventually remember to stop staring and extinguish the fire, but until then, it would be like watching a phoenix be reborn--if a phoenix was able to wear Christian Laboutin heels while dealing with its fire hair disaster.

If prominent women in the entertainment industry were able to overcome that, I think I might respect them more.

Until then, I am going to remain at a respectful distance. Not for their benefit and privacy, but merely to keep me out of prison.

p.s. This was entirely fictional (although my strange thought to set a celebrity’s hair on fire was not) and I would never do that. Not to you anyway. I’m entirely aware that this rant derived from jealous insecurities, but you know what? When I’m a celebrity, I welcome you to try and set my hair on fire. I will have learned by then to wear hats. And carry pepper spray.

That's not office appropriate.

I hate jeggings.

This is not a huge epiphany. I know a lot of people dislike them. But I doubt many people hate them as much as I do.

First of all, I associate them with a certain type of person. The type of person whose appearance seems to say, “Fuck you. I don’t care that I’m not wearing proper clothing to cover my lower half. I’m going to wear these motherfucking tights that are two times too small (like the Grinch’s heart). Just to piss you off further, I am going to wear them with Uggs and a small sweater.”

It doesn’t seem to be a coincidence that the same girls wearing jeggings are also the ones wearing Uggs. I can’t even get behind Uggs in an ironic sense. They’re just stupid. I want to throw people off buildings when I see them. I like to think I become the Hulk. Maybe that’s why he’s so aggressive. You can’t blame him.

Anyway, I don’t understand jeggings. I saw a commercial for “pajama jeans” the other day. Is there a difference between jeggings and pajama jeans? Also, why do the jeggings have rivets? What are they reinforcing? Another layer of spandex?

Cover your ass! I don’t need to see your wobbly bits. On the other hand, I have to admire your confidence in wearing something that is clearly so unflattering. Perhaps it is an indication of your mental ability. Should we trust you with metal utensils?

Maybe even worse than the girls who wear tight jeggings are the ones who wear baggy ones. The whole point is they’re supposed to be tight. This isn’t sweat pants for the twenty-first century. Loser. When I see women who are wearing jeggings (or even plain leggings really), I wonder if perhaps they need them to be that large to compensate for the adult diapers they must be wearing. It’s the only excuse to let your ass sag that much.

In an alternate universe somewhere, using my limited understanding of physics, men are the ones making these terrible fashion choices. Yet, for some reason, it works for them.

Oh I’m sorry. I was confused. It’s not actually an alternate universe. It’s called Europe.