Blank Slate Sh*t

Look at me, channeling my inner psych ward patient all deranged looking and stuff. I'm pretty darn good if I do say so myself, which of course,  I just did. I get it, this look may be a tough one to sell as a given bystander may depict this look in detail as a prude tossup between a weary, underpaid, overworked, nurse and the sickly patient she selflessly cares for day in and day out without so much as quaint "*cough cough* Shmank you". For those of you appeal to the former rhetoric, since when is it bad to honorably imitate those who are the backbone of this very country. What's more, male nurses are the shit!

But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I.

Maybe not.

These days I feel like whiting-it-out is the only right thing to do, you know? It's kind of like cheating on a test you more or less studied for...After all, the interwebs are plastered with propaganda promising all white erry night like practical garb in celebrating the three ceremonious weeks before Labor Day cuts all that blank slate shit short. It's true, everyone's got to have their own interpretation of the ongoing, quite possibly never ending, tumult of trend. In my case, dressing up as a nurse and purchasing a pair of sick white jeans is most fitting to the circumstance occupying my headspace. But hey, if that's what makes me happy, then I'm totally not judging me.

Yep, that made sense.

I'm aware, this most likely isn't my most fashion-forward-hipster-cool-on-point-chic-bloggerella outfit yet, but cut me some slack I'm still feeling things out a bit. The point of this blog is not entirely to amuse you in showing how precise my personal style is in compliance with my wit, humor and sensibilities.  No siree!

This is me experimenting. Tripping along the way over filthy Superga laces and the occasional stab of the foot brought to you by those pesky Betsey Johnson stud monkey earrings. And this is me hoping to get you to crack a few naughty but even in the least bit humored laughs every now and then.

That is if you laugh, which I feel you guys rarely do.

Urban Outfitters blouse, or shirt? I dont know whichever is more politically correct. 

Thrifted-that-ish shoes. No, that is not a brand.

White tennis skirt. Ha! Got ya! Adding more irony to the equation even when maximized to full capacity.

I'm seemingly content. I could easily go save someone's life on an episode of Grey's Anatomy then meet for brunch twenty minutes later at What Crepe? on the flip of an oxidized coin.

Now if that's not functionality...