A Visit with Gavin

Through My Eyes

by budding blogger

Gavin MacLeod

                                                                            

Today’s Topic…

Corona Couture

Okay, so…  Where the hell do I even start with this fashion-fried mess? 

Before all you feline females jump on me with your pointy claws bared in defense of this… train wreck, take note that I am uberly in favor of Corona V Gear.  Wanna wear an inflatable unicorn suit to Walmart?  You go on with your bad self.  Haz mat gear?  Hell to the yes, my friend!  Scuba down in neoprene for the grocery scene if that’s your dive.  I whole heartedly believe that nobody should be at the local Food-O-Rama without taking proper precautions.

HowEV-ER….

While I give Ricardo Sombrero props for the prophylacticness, that’s about as far as my kudos can extend.  Hayzeus Cristo, man!  You’re rolling through the organic ‘hood with your grocery posse, not washing dishes in the barrio.

Great Gloria Vanderbilt’s ghost, Shamebora!  For a minute there you owned a damn fashion line.  You remember that, right?  With the sketchy blonde who shall remain nameless – mostly because her fifteen minutes of fame are up, and nobody remembers her name. 

Surely Ms. Fifteen Minutes Ago left dominatrix gear in a spare bedroom.  Cut up that shiny black PVC catsuit and make you some proper gloves, hombre!  As long as you Lysol the crotch, it would be a muy better look. 

People probably don’t remember the line was called White Trash, either, but damn if you aren’t tryin’ your best to remind them. 

What the hell is the lumberjack mess you’ve only buttoned far enough to cover the Tarzan vine that’s swinging slow enough to grow moss these days?    You’re going to cover your head, face, eyes, legs, feet and forearms in any damn thing you can find to fend of Rona vibes, but then you go and leave your middle-age gut free-ballin’?  Duuude.  I swear you must be taking advantage of the marijuana legalities in neighboring states, because what kind of effin’ sense does that make??  For reals! 

I guess I should just be grateful that you’re using that awkwardly angled ball cap to cover the hot mess that is your “hairstyle” as of late.  I don’t know who you pissed off or why you let them close to you with styling product, but if anybody got up outta my chair looking like that?  I would file a malpractice lawsuit against myself! 

What?  You don’t think that’s a thing?  Stylist malpractice is soooo totally a thing!  Not that I’ve personal been a plaintiff in one, because, you know…  Helloooo?  I’m me.  Stylist extraordinaire.

And yes, I did pirouette just then.  Did you expect any less?  If so, girlfriend, you don’t know me at all. 

But back to the subject at hand…

Seriously, Senor Somebrero.  Can you not dial up that exceptionally efficient assistant of yours and get some less… mockable personal protective gear?  You’ve got enough cash to pony up for an open hand sanitizer bar for your entire Spanish architectured ‘hood.  Who the hell needs gloves when you can bathe in Purell? 

Oh, and one last thing.  Ease up on the damn plastic bags my friend.  Don’t you know turtles suffocate on those things???

Dress responsibly, my friends!