Fresh from the Manolo comes news of the co-option of one of the greatest shoe designers in the world. Surely it cannot have been an accident that this particular meme manifested itself at this time. Mighty Cthulhu has penetrated even unto the workshops of the maestro of shoes, Christian Louboutin.
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And now for the latest in our series on the Ideal Man.
All the world knows about the iron men: streamlined bio-units of muscle, sinew, and insanity who compete for survival-level prize money over a gruelling, often mountainous course approximately the distance typically travelled in a human lifetime.
But do you know about Extreme Iron Men?
Extreme Ironing is the *sport* (you decide) of taking an iron & ironing board to locations not conducive to ironing, and pressing a few items of clothing.
When I left raincoaster Global HQ this morning there was a pile of wet laundry on a rack over the bathtub, dripping away and patiently waiting for my attention. I figured it would keep and tried to creep out of the place without waking the slumbering Cybergypsy. When I returned this afternoon, the laundry was happily drying on the line and my roommate was straightening the last of my unmentionables on the drying rack.
I should sign him up for this and bet a snotload of money on the guy. He’s obviously a natural. Any man who would touch my underwear without a specific invitation is, frankly, fearless.
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There are some things no man can endure. Some punishments too gruesome to be permitted in a civilized society. Some concepts so horrible that the human soul itself shrivels and dies a little when forced to contemplate them.
This is one of those things.
Reuters reports that in benighted Thailand, where failure to reverencify the king will get you ten years (although, unlike Singapore, graffitification of cars will not get your caned ass featured in teary interviews on ABC) the police have instituted truly draconian measures for internal discipline.
Sloppy Bangkok policemen are being ordered to wear bright pink “Hello Kitty” armbands in a uniquely Thai twist to zero tolerance anti-crime initiatives used in New York.
Crime Suppression Division officers caught dropping litter, parking illegally or reporting late for work will get several days wearing the armbands, which come complete with the cute Japanese cat cartoon sitting on a pair of hearts.
Let’s just see these boys try to intimidate a perp now. “Hands up? Whatever! Ooooh, I’m scared; it’s Officer Friendly Kokko-chan!”
PS: how do you get an offending police officer into the back of the paddy wagon?
You pokemon.
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Voulez-vous parlez en Francais, ce soir?
Mostly we at the ol’ raincoaster blog decry labels as the sinister tools of a bigoted and hierarchical bourgeois hegemony, but every now and again we see one which is not only like, totally right on, it is the veritable shizznit itself.
And so it is with this label, which we obtained from the astronomy blog of Molly Peeples, via the political blog of Frontier Former Editor. And I have no doubts one should not wash in cold water, dry scrunched up, use bleach, dry in the dryer, or iron.
And yea, I am inordinately proud that I didn’t need the translation (although I do need the keyboard accent hints, it seems).
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What does the future hold for metrosexuals, other than steadily-declining fashionability and vague, doomed, and renumerative jobs in the Middle East? Oh, if only there were an oracle, a source of the wisdom and self-knowledge for which metrosexuals are so very not renowned.
Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting:
The Barista
The fool who makes your coffee languishes at the bottom of the metrosexual heap — shaggy hair, shabby chic, non-existent manicure. So why does he seem so serene and self-actualized? He makes a hundred drinks in a morning, yet he always remembers to make yours extra hot, with soy milk. At first you dismiss him as an overeducated joker. Before long, you realize he’s a nurturer, cheerleader, caffeinated shaman. What is it with this guy? Is he a graduate student? Does he play in a band, or what? You ask him, but he only smiles, and pulls another shot.
Meaning: Vision, flexibility, resourcefulness, travel.
Reversed: Indecision, with a change to come.
Go on, go on. Deck yourself out; deal yourself in. You know you want to. The Clubs are represented by Martini glasses, and the suits are Shoes, Potions, Forks, and Clubs! That is what I call playing with a full deck.
The Major Arcana, as if you pampered city dwellers couldn’t have already guessed, are:
The City (Seattle), The Loft, the Gay Pal, the Closet (no reason these are adjacent, none at all), The Personal Trainer, The Salon, Fabulousness, The Diet, The Gym, The DJ, Abs, the Designer, Therapy, The Barista, The Manicurist, Age, The Partners, The Sale, Prescriptions, Cocktails, The Stylist, and The Decorator.
Now I need a Ketel One Martini; I feel as if I just finished a Bret Easton Ellis novel. Do they still make those?
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