Vacation in 5...yeah.

My cousin's family is spending XMAS in France this year because his sister is there teaching and they couldn't let her spend the Holidays alone. So in preparation he tells his dad, "You know that you can't go over to Europe looking like a scrub. Trust me, I've been there before. You have to dress up nice because everyone dresses up nice. We need to look good." To which he replies, F-that-s, she told me to bring two pairs of jeans and two t-shirts. I'm a wear what I want, I don't care about the French.

Okay, so maybe I'm paraphrasing a bit and that's not exactly what went down, but you get the picture.



The same thing kind of applies in Toronto because you'll always see people dress up way nicer than they need to, to drink a bubble tea at the mall or eat a hot dog on the street. Maybe it's because I live in the suburbs and never have to worry about running into anyone of consequence, but wearing multiple layers, jewelry and random accessories is not really my thing.

Anyway, while downtown over the weekend enjoying some delicious Korean BBQ, this group of like 20-something overly stylish students walk in and they're all flossing fresh new clothes, which is kind of weird considering the stench that these gas grills and assorted meats will give to them.

First of all I though to myself, how the hell do children like this afford such expensive clothes? But then I realize that they all have ridiculous-ass haircuts too. Like I'm talking mullets and side combs and mohawks, all in the middle of winter.

Judging Looking at them again I came to three conclusions: 1. They are all liberal arts students celebrating their last exams, 2. They are all hair stylists celebrating their last hair cut exam, 3. They are all members of some vague student association where they have somehow convinced each other in a vicious cycle that impractical hair cuts (that probably take like 20 minutes to style in the morning) and canvas shoes that offer zero foot support are totally the tits.

So says me as I sit there staring at them way too much in a cheesy flannel shirt, stupid scarf, while drinking a Sapporo and chewing on a piece of short rib...



Mini bacon weave, perfect for a Sunday afternoon sandwich. I just have to make it through this week then it's break time. Is it Friday yet?