rick owens jeans

a few weeks ago, i was stomping through that stupid new venetian hotel when my day was absolutely ruined because a really excellent woman walked by me and ruined my buzz. the pants she was wearing were perfect for the universe at that very moment, god himself was wearing a lesser pair of pants! and she wore them like she knew, like she had planned this. she was upstaging god and she knew it and she enjoyed every moment of it.

i can't even describe to you this feeling; i got it once before in the elevator going up to the engagement ring floor at tiffany's on fifth when i looked over and the man standing next to me had the best jaw bones i had ever seen. i was torn between elation at having had the chance to see the world's best jaw line and uncontrollable wrath- that i did not get such a bone structure. the fact that we were buying my engagement ring became just a boring detail of that day.

so ever since i saw that bitch- prostitute to you, golden idol to me, i have been determined to find great pants too. This is an easy job for me, i only take easy jobs because i'm lazy, as i already have them. the problem is that in order to wear the pefect pants, you have to have the perfectly desirable physique of a twelve year old boy. i already don't eat so a diet is out of the question, and exercise is disgusting. the only way to drop pounds for me is to give up the good stuff!

so, for the past twenty-one days, not a drop of booze has passed these lips. i've lost weight and look good in pants but it's not worth it at all. i am pretty but i am miserable! i think the fun in all of this is that i must have been really intoxicated when i saw the lady with the perfect pants because, seeing them again, they're not that great.