Oh damn, it's the last day of Hair Fair 2015.
Predictably, I'm scrambling around at the last minute trying to check it all out, but the sims are full and I crash every time I take a step, cam around or try to snap a photo.
See that "Em's Starbucks Fund" button over there on the right? Yeah, feel free to drop $900 in there if you happen to be filthy rich. It will promptly go towards a new laptop that was made during the past decade. Some people fantasize about sex. I dream of a decent graphics card.
Maybe I'll blog something every time I crash. Or maybe I'll eventually give up and take a nap. Meanwhile, forget about hair. I want this BIG DAMN RAWKIN' STATUE in the L&N Signature Hair Designs booth:
I miss those old days when women wore bras that made their boobs look like bullets. "My chest is also a deadly weapon." Somebody work on bringing back that look IRL.
And as usual, all the people who're wearing mesh outfits (meaning, everybody) look like their clothes are sticking sideways out of their stomachs on my viewer. It's surreal. Like that movie "Alien," except with fashion. ("A dress is exploding from my abdomen and soon it will EAT THE WORLD, bitches.")
Don't worry, it's not you. It's my vintage Mac.
The whole effed-up scene does make me feel somewhat grateful for the surprisingly high number of women who are running around in thongs with HUGE oily (glossy? shiny? radiant?) butts. You keep it all about that bass, ladies! At least those boo-tays are in the right places.
OK, I'm gonna try to get back in. Wish me luck. Maybe we'll bump into each other.