Photo by Linda.
So there's this tight-ass principal in East Buttfuck, Missouri, who says that this linebacker kid can't wear a kilt to a formal dance. What a putz. For the record, the kilt is a time-honored piece of garb worn in battle, formal occassions, and whenever we big fuckin' hairy scots mofros decide we want to.
So fuck off, Mr. I'm so Nervous that little Johhny's Little Willy is going to flop around at the dance that I have to ignore all the punch-spiking, ass-grabbing, dope-smoking, line-snorting and crazy goat-fucking that always goes on at high school Dances Principal Man. Let the bugger wear his kilt, and don't you fucking dare look up there to see if he's going regimental. Your monkey ass would be flogged pillory to post if you instituted underwear checks on the chicklets, so don't fuckin' sport the double standard, pusswah. As one of the greatest writers of modern times once said in a blog comment, Mr. Principal "put a fucking stitch in your gash."
I wear a kilt on occassion. Not just to attract attention (and to make sure that the folks I met remembered who I was rather than "that other overweight hairy hillbilly blogger") , and to show off my spectacular calves, but because it's fuckin' comfy. Men wearing pants and chicks wearing skirts has always made about as much sense to me as the nutbuster bar on a boy's bike. WTF!?!?!? The boys like to breathe, that's all there is to it. And for the record, I was not regimental at the WPBT Winter Classic (I didn't want to think about where those chairs had been). Just ask Grubby about sitting in unpleasant substances in casinos.
But even if the kid was wearing the kilt to draw attention to himself, SO FUCKING WHAT? Most of the things we all did in high school were designed to draw attention to ourselves, especially those of us who went through there in the 80s and early 90s. No, really, we never thought that wearing 5 watches and that much clashing neon actually looked good, but you fucking noticed, didn't you? High school and college (and for some of us, the rest of our lives - see pic) are all about exploring who we want to be, who we think we are, and who we don't want to be. So if little Nathan whateverthefuck wants to wear a kilt, fine. He's grabbed his 15 minutes at 17 years old, and we probably don't have to worry about him assassinating the president later in life just to get a little bit of fucking attention from an actress who swings the other fuckin' way anyhow.
So I am obviously in support of this kid's right to wear the kilt to the dance, graduation, the prom, his wedding, work, on the subway (careful of updrafts) and anywhere else he damn well please.
And don't get me started on why there's nothing wrong with man-purses, either. If I get on that rant, Donkeypuncher will start sending me hair gel and facial moisturizer samples and try to convert me to a metrosexual, and I'm way to fat and lazy for all that beauty regimen :).
Wow I swear a lot.
Fuck it. If you're a kid, you shouldn't read this shit anyway. Go find Daddy's new blog. Or hell, go read the porn that's taken over snailtrax.