Uggs

Every season, “celebrities” flaunt what they deem to be the latest and greatest in have-to-have-it wear. One cleverly snapped photo of a decked-out harlot “” I mean, starlet, and by one, I mean 212 “” and everyone is rushing off to beg Daddy or the nearest guy down at the truck stop for the money to dress just like Miley or Kim or Britney. Gobs and gobs of money are spent to look just like them, and the rest of us nonsheeple are left scratching our heads and wondering what the damn fuss is all about.

This month, we will be taking a look at one of the “must have” trends that just won’t end: Uggs (or as I like to think of them, the most tasteless thing to come out of Australia since vegemite).

If you’ve been living under a rock or reading books or jerking off to Skyrim and don’t know what Uggs are, allow me to throw some knowledge your way. Remember those slipper things your grandpa used to wear? The ugly brownish or tan ones with the wool lining? The ones that were nice and soft the first time he wore them after you and your mom picked them up for him at J.C. Penney on Christmas Eve because you forgot to get him a gift, and you figured he was old and going to die in a few years anyway, so you bought those slippers because you figured, if he lasted another year or so, you’d have gotten your money out of them? The ones that turned brown on the inside after he wore them a few times and always smelled like pee and feet and old sweaty balls after that, and you and your brother would take turns saying things like “Oh, yeah “¦ well, all you’re getting in Grandpa’s will are his dirty, old-ball-sweat-smelling slippers, ’cause he loves me more” to each other late at night when you were supposed to be saying your prayers?

Go out to a bar on game night and pick these dudes out. You can kill your liver playing one hell of a game of Duck, Duck, Douche”¦

Yeah, well, those are kind of like Uggs. Sheepskin exterior, wool interior, with a price tag that will set you back a couple hundred bucks or more at least, they are apparently all the rage these days with young women[1] who are obviously completely oblivious to fashion, weather, and the old adage that clothes make the man/woman.

Do the clothes you wear really make a statement about who you are and what kind of person you are? Well, of course they do. That’s the whole damn point of fashion. I mean, we’ve already established what Tapout, Abercrombie & Fitch, Axe body spray, and Ducks Unlimited clothing say about you. (Go out to a bar on game night and pick these dudes out. You can kill your liver playing one hell of a game of Duck, Duck, Douche”¦)

So what does wearing Uggs say about you? Let’s break this down a little, shall we?

  • Long breezy dress + expensive jewelry + Uggs = I don’t read for fun. I will have sex with you at Coachella, but only if you buy the coke.
  • Headband + Uggs + tank top = I will have sex in a gas station bathroom for beef jerky and a Mountain Dew.
  • Uggs + leggings + button-up top = I think I look hot, but I either have no ass or too much ass, and I am in denial. These aren’t real Uggs. I got them at Walmart. I will have sex with you behind Walmart in your car, but please don’t tell anyone. I eat cake alone and cry.
  • Uggs + jeans = I am only wearing these to get popular. I didn’t get into the sorority my mom was in. I will have sex with you at a keg party. I don’t care if you take photos or not. Did you bring any weed?
  • Uggs + sweatpants = I have no will to live. Are we having sex? I don’t feel anything. Maybe I took too much meth. Where’s LINDSAY??!! That BITCH has my phone.

Really, though, I don’t get this fad at all. All the chicks I see wearing them are chicks bouncing from party to party in L.A. or New York or at LSU or Southern. Do you really need fur-lined boots in Southern California or Louisiana?

Don’t answer that if you own a pair of Uggs. Your judgment is faulty. The answer is no.

It almost makes you think maybe there was something not so bad about Crocs, now doesn’t it? Actually, no, it doesn’t. Forget I asked.


[1] We shall pretend for the sake of my lucid dreaming that men simply do not wear Uggs. Thank you very much.

About Ruby42

Ruby42
Ruby42 is an artist / poet / comedian / writer / pornographer / baker of boozy bacon cakes and thinks it sucks to be you.

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