Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Stop Bluffin' With Your Muffin'

That's GaGa sans pants. Just a normal shopping day.

No pants. It's apparently a Lady GaGa rule, and I think she is the only one who should follow it. Now that the mercury is rising, I'm seeing it already and I have to beg people to please stop showing your nether regions under too short tops that your cousin from the Jersey Shore told you could be worn as a dress. Or, in things that may seem like leggings in a dark room, but are actually black tights. It scars me emotionally to look down at someone's legs in public and see their business so thinly veiled or all out and out. It's like a car wreck, I can't stop looking, and then I start to wonder about my decency as a human being, and then my entire reason for existence comes into question. I beg of you all who still do the legging thing, buy leggings not tights! And, if you can see cheek, it's about a foot too short for bare legs, no matter what Cousin Krissy says. Please help me out on this one? I'll be your un-bestfriend.

Watch Lady GaGa go at it, but don't get any ideas....

I can't stop singing that song. I'm such a sucker for her cheesy, poptastic dirtiness. Anyone who sings about their muffin is a friend of mine. I was suspect of the GaGa at first, but it's like Bjork, Twisted Sister (the whole band), and the ghost of Bowie's past got drunk on Ouzo and red wine and had a night of passion with the Dirrrty version of X-tina Aguilera (which she apparently doesn't remember) and gave the offspring up for adoption to be raised by a troupe of Lower East Side burlesque dancers. Do you need a family tree diagram for that? Bottom line? Leave the pantslessness to the GaGa. She does it better.

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