We Need Some Answers

Volume 2: Men in Skinny Jeans, etcetera, etcetera

Well how have y’all good peoples been? Fine? Well, that’s good. Yeah, I known I been gon’ for a minute, but sometimes Pearlie Mae juss needz to ress her bones for a while. And jet lag was trying to have his way. But juss the same, somethin’ been on my mind lately. See, I have noticed that menfolk skinny jeans have been becomin’ skinner and skinnier. Now, yes I realize that I recently blogged about the glory of Diesel’s JoggJean and their incredible stretchiness. But that’s not the kind of skinny jean I’m talking ‘bout. Lemme share a few pics with you that I snapped (in a not so discreet manner) in good ole Manhattan, U.S.A.

Offender #1, at least he’s got a nice azz

Offender #2: I have never even had a condom fit this tight. Wait…maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to that.

Showing a little more of Offender #2's ensemble.

Okay, yes, it’s true. LiWu the PK has a big azz and legs. And yes, LiWu the PK has hips that spread laterally. But before we go any further, this post has nothing to do with the fact that I cannot wear skinny jeans without looking like the big girl in ballet class that fought her way into her leotard. However, that has nothing to do with my disdain for skinny jeans — nothing at all.

Now with that out of the way, please examine the pictures to the left. I mean, there are the obvious questions, like “where the fuck do you put your balls”. Seriously, do you just tuck them away?

It’s summer. And it’s New York City. Which means there is heat radiating from asphalt along with funky steam rising from various manholes and “Hot Nuts” carts. Why would you want to be encased in thick, fabric so tight that putting it on is an effective method of removing leg hair?

It can’t be healthy. To have man-junk tucked so tightly into a garment that unforgiving in the heat, I mean, eww. Although, I suppose it could be a boon to the baby powder/corn starch industry. So maybe you are making this sacrifice in comfort to bolster the American economy by purchasing absorbent products? Thanks…

I will continue to try and capture such absurdities as I walk to and fro in NYC. At least until somebody smacks the shit out of me for boldly taking pictures of their misfortune.

Like these fuckers…

“No, I do not care about the Earth, the homeless, or animals.”

See those two fuckers in the light blue t-shirts posted up and facing one another on the sidewalk with the clipboards? You know who they are. You try sooooo fucking hard not to meet their gaze, but your nosy ass wants to get close enough to read their t-shirt to see who they reppin’ because they may have some free shit to give away. But just as you are almost close enough to see this ain’t advertising a rib tasting, they catch your eyes and say,

“Hi! Do you have a few minutes for the Earth”

Why no, I don’t!

How much do they pay these happy fuckers to stand on the street and try to bring on guilt trips. No, I’m not giving you money for the Earth because I need my money to buy gas for my gas-guzzling BMW that I may use later to mow you down as you head home on your Citi bike.

And why can’t they take no for an answer? I once allowed myself to engage with one of these poor souls that I encountered during a lunch time walk to Bryant Park. She wanted me to support education for girls in a part of Africa where females are discouraged from school. I can’t remember her name, but it was a stripper-type name like Divine or Diamond, and she had a snotty nose and a bottle of hot sauce in her purse. Yes, I looked in her purse. For some reason I just decided it would be fun to fuck with Diamond with the snotty nose. So I listened to her pitch and she reached into her purse to get a pen and I saw the hot sauce. And then I grabbed it and showed it to her counterpart a few steps away on the sidewalk and said, “Yo, you know your girl Diamond keep hot sauce on her at all times like her name is SheNayNay?”

Then she had the nerve to ask for a credit card number.

Umm, no boo. I’m not going to fill in my credit card number in these 16 little boxes to get that cute lil’ African princess access to education on a sidewalk along 6th Avenue with no witnesses other than these two concrete lions on the steps. Who actually follows through and signs shit for these youngins?

I will leave you with one question.

What do firemen do when there is no fire? No shade — just curious.

-LiWu