I found the glasses I want today. It would be nice if they made me look older.
I let my guard down, and now find myself faced with the very real possibility of becoming a patron of that shit hole Forever 21. Finding something there that is tasteful and intact is very much akin to the thrill of finding something awesome at a thrift store. It really is hard work wading through those racks of desperately trendy mock frocks and flipper flappers, while D'angelo sings me a Christmas song. Those racks of junk store. Those racks go junk store on my hide.