Right now I'm sitting in my home office listening *against my will* to some unidentifiable, blaring, heavy metal music coming from the neighbors across the alley that consist of a couple of gay guys who are in and out of a relationship (and yes I am completely fine airing it because they sit out on their deck and fight with each other and then one leaves and the other screams the details into the telephone at whomever he calls - it's a total gas) and the other drunken neighbor who has to be 50 years old and all of 5ft tall but insists on wearing the longest shorts past his knees with knee high neon socks coming out from underneath whilst he rides his rusty beach cruiser in circles around the back alley. Ahhhhhhhh beach living. Imagine these 3 sitting around shootin' the breeze. eeps! I don't have to imagine...I see it daily and it baffles the daylights out of me.
Did I mention that the gay guys have a life-sized (guessing since I've never actually seen one) neon alien on their tiki inspired outdoor deck? They think it will attract a UFO. I'm not kidding. They said it in all seriousness. Oh, and they also have an extensive bobblehead collection. They told my landlord and invited him over to see it. He took his wife along just in case. I peed my pants laughing.
Anyway. That's all I've got. It's interesting because I've wondered over the past couple years, as their bizarre behavior has elevated, if I'm going to end up on Dateline or 20/20 (dream come true) being interviewed after they cart these cuckoo birds off to the slammer for some sort of weird tryst of a crime. Keep your eye out for me. I'll give you the heads up.
You might see me wearing this outfit because I fully intend on being the one who turns them in. As I examined the pictures I found myself thinking of Inspector Clouseau. However I will be known as Inspector Shoeseau (so getting a copyright on that one!)
And here you thought the sweatshirt dress was just a beach cover-up.
Oh no. It can also be the bones of a P.I.'s work attire.
You can wear it into the light.
And back again.
You can do mad stretches in it. Or bust a gut. Whichever you prefer.
It's just like wearing a long sweatshirt only far more chic.
Especially when layered under a military jacket.
That is cinched in with a wonderfully worn belt...
that can also double as a lasso if need be.
Don't judge - remember safety first.
"Wait! Is that a shoe I see up there?"
Pardon me while I look to the west for answers on where the next shoe lays...
or where I can escape the bobblehead lovers' UFO landing pad.
~Inspector Shoeseau. Over and out.~
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