I don’t know if you noticed, but everything has to look perfect these days. The profile picture is constantly changing, like it has a life of its own: a new light, a new angle, new shirt, new lipstick, glowing face, gone wrinkles, firmer look and glancing skin. If it’s not changing from time to time, it’s not ok-ish.
The car should be impeccable: any sign of scratch on the windshield is a sign of social fatigue, which is definitely not the message you’d like to send to your neighbours, colleagues, friends and family. More-than-a-year-worn shoes? Down the drain. The ties and belts have changed so much in just one year, haven’t they? It’s better to say you’re home-sick than to go out without wearing the favourite make-up, shirt, watch, stilettos, scarf, tie, sleeve buttons, or God-knows-what. Better, have them altogether.
And the pet should be gooorgeous, xoxo. Maybe you’ve noticed (finally): there are pet social hierarchies, too. You don’t put a chihuahua in the same car or under the same roof with a German shepherd. It’s a no-no. Just remember, if you wanna grow strong with your fanbase: before the instapic, dog must be shampooed. Perfectly combed. The hair should glow, even in the dark (yes, it’s possible, but you have to believe it). The dog should look like it’s powered by The Force itself. Some tried to teach their pets to smile, but seemed like a little bit too much. Some say they’re still trying.
The quest of the century is for the new beauty.
Take trips, for examples. You instantly stop telling stories about the places you saw, when someone’s asking: ‘oh, but did you see this, or… that?’ No, you didn’t, you fool, you missed all the fun. You got your lesson, now behave. Next time you’ll buy a better guide and visit all the posh places, to win back the ranks you lost with your latest, lousy trip you’ve taken to such a boring destination, idiot.
Book. Oh, let’s talk book-ish. Do you have at least some fashionistas in your kindle? Then you qualify. I mean, we don’t judge you, but otherwise you suck. Oh, excusé-moi, I meant you are on my call-you-some-other-time list. And the list is long. I have to keep it this way, in order to access to finest networking circles in town. What’s the secret password? A carefully-googled hot, new thing, heard by everybody, yet known by only a heavenly blessed few. Like a new diet. Or a new singer. Food, spice, shoe, watch, car. Anything will do.
Seems like we’re not gender aware anymore, we joke so little about so few, we take ourselves so serious that we get the sense of life only when we die. Frightened by taboos, we became a big one ourselves. Designed by standards, fuelled by shallow judgements and superfluous races, we embarked in a blind quest for beauty.
Useless to say, we’re the ugly ones.
Recent Comments