I Will Never Be Bourgeois

I was BS-ing on myspace again today. I had loads of work to catch up on, but really, who wants to work when you are so stuffed from a work potluck, you've got serious doubts about controlling your gag reflex, and anyway, I was in baby-zone and seeing if any classmates had been knocked up recently. Or done the knocking.

And I happened upon a friend (although really, I was looking at a friend of his who used to like me, back in the day maybe 15 years ago) and I started to realize that I could never be that. I could not be dressed up when the sun is still out in my Daytime Fancy with my man decked out in his Summer Suit, champagne glasses carefully placed beside a centerpiece overflowing with pink and purple blossoms.

In my house, when the champagne comes out we've either run out of other alcohol, or are transitioning to the hard stuff. My dress-up clothes are more likely to be black knee-high boots with an above-the-knee denim skirt and a booby shirt, instead of a long, formal velvet dress. I think tattoos are hot, and not the shit-tard "tribal" arm bands, but crosses and bleeding hearts, portraits and panthers and beautiful, sentimental designs. Huge hoop earrings, layered necklaces, stilleto slingbacks, gelled waves and dark eyeliner, that's me, not this mellowed-out I have to dress like my father so I'll be successful in like crap.

I don't have a problem with other people doing it, it's just not me.

It's just odd sometimes, when you see how people turned out when you both started in the same place. Okay, maybe they started out with less morals and more money, and look where it got them! More money and still less morals.

Interesting...