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Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Merry Christmas from E. & E. (la deuxième année)

Hark back in your mind to last year. Remember the finest gift you received?

That's right! It's that time again! Esbette and I forsook TJ Maxx this year, journeying instead to the Marshall's at Silas Creek Crossing to bring you


We'll start with my styling of Esbette.

Let's be frank; my color choices for Esbette are phenomenal. Rarely do you see two colors so putrid, so draining of an individual's life essence, as these. The pants feature a yellowed wash OVER the grey denim so that it appears that neighborhood cats have peed all over Esbette's thighs.

The Mork & Mindy Tribute suspenders are oddly set far so far apart that they basically act as express roadways to the armpits, a classic destination. The clamdigger length of the pants shortens Esbette's legs by at least a foot, an attractive effect few other pant lengths deliver.
Coming in for the close-up, we see Esbette's navel peekabooing from behind creepy crochet set off by a Bedazzler. Note too the detailing around the pant pockets. G-UNIT, not just in black, but in white and purple as well. For those not in the know, "G-Unit" is short for both Guerilla Unit and Gangsta Unit. This makes the pants versatile.

Moving along to Esbette's styling of moi...

What a lucky, lucky day for Esbette, as I was wearing my witchy socks and little boots, which only brought her fashion stylings to the next level. Maximizing the benefits,again this year Esbette goes with the gaucho, widening and shortening simultaneously. Good show, Esbette! The fabric isn't too awful, though, and it's a basic black. From a distance the boxy (and thereby crazily fattening) top appears striped, and while the jacket definitely rocks the Mariachi a bit, it doesn't look too awful. Then you come in for the close-up and...

BAM! The stripes on the top are actually ribbons! And lace! And rick-rack! It's a smorgasbord of insanity!

And the jacket is edged, and I mean completely, including cuffs and lapels AND UP EACH ARM,with little hooks. As I moved, I began to catch my ribbons, my lace, my rick-rick. Eventually I became completely tangled, and Esbette had to rescue me from my straight-jacket stylings, snorting laughter most unattractively as she did so.

(And yes, my face is "off", i.e. moonlike. I was on ridiculous steroids for the pneumonia that defied the first round of antibiotics. Thankfully the second round reigned victorious, and I'm recovered now, facially and lung-ily, but YOU ALMOST LOST ME, PEOPLE.)

So there you have it. It's a close one this year, too close for me to call. I leave it up to you.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: After numerous concerned emails and a few phone calls, I have posted a quick cameraphone shot of myself from today, 12/20, in the left column. See? I'm better. Esbette and I did this smackdown like two weeks (and fifteen pounds) ago. Any fat remaining is my own and cannot be blamed on the steroids.

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