|Maybe my life's ambition is to drink margaritas all day and learn Mexican|
“Wake up and smell your life's ambition”
This what I woke up to this morning from a take away coffee sleeve, it was an advertising by Docker's Pants with a khaki arse looking at me as I laid there in the ditch with a banging hangover induced from a Jack Daniel's binge from the night before...
This is cooler than the truth and it would also imply I left the house during darkened hours, as f yet I've had no reason to die, so I don't.
Instead I lie there in my comfortable bed, clear mind and well rested and two thoughts enter my mind as I read that advertising opportunity from Docker's Pants.
My First Thought
I've packed way too many brown clothes, 3 brown shorts, 1 pair of brown trousers/pants, 5 brown t-shirts, 1 brown shirt and a pair of brown flip-flops... This is ridiculous I think I am going to have to have some of laundry accident with tie dye or buy some really crappy clothes from Wal-Mart or TK Maxx/TJ Maxx (though, I chose the latter I'd spend so much time looking for something not brown and not XXL that my holiday/vacation would be over)
|Types of brown (from: azizaizmargari.wordpress.com)|
It's also worth noting, I hate brown as I own too much brown and thought I packed only non-brown items, perhaps the brown rot spread from my flip-flops during the flight, like rotting apples in a fruit bowl.
My Second Thought
was my need for a new shoulder bag, now I didn't want to buy one because I have loads at home so I thought I'd be resourceful in an A-Team/MacGyver sized proportions and make one from random bits of debris that seemed to have littered my floor already, I scooped up a belt and long-sleeve t-shirt.
And I accidentally made a tank.
So, I tried again and made a bag, no sewing required just full on genius spreading all over this bag, looking awesome and me being in LA, I thought I'd show off my new fashion item to the world that matters and well, no one noticed nor cared. They were probably too absorbed within their own sponge bubble to realise my bag was a t-shirt and awesome, ahhh fuck 'em.
Composed: Park Bench, Opposite Cabo Cantina, Santa Monica