[Originally posted December 2010]

Pom pom ski hat

Pom pom ski hats. Whomever sold you that stupid ski hat fucking lied to you.  I don’t care if that pom pom looks like it’s growing out of the top of your head or if it hangs tethered from the top – it takes a jerkoff of astronomical proportions to think that pom pom on top of your head looks good.  How much of a shithead do you have to be to think that that South Park look is rocking hard for you.  You look like you headbutted Santa Claus’ ballsack.  I swear each time I see some shithead walk down the street with a pom pom hanging off the top of his ski hat, I want nothing more than to rip that pom pom off and make him choke on it.  If you have one of these hats, toss it into your fireplace.  Not just that fuzzy piece of shit on the top of your ski hat.  Snipping it off isn’t going to help, just toss the whole damn thing into the fire.  Then go out and buy yourself a proper ski hat that doesn’t make you look like a complete imbecile.

Lift ticketed jacket

That stack of lift tickets hanging off your jacket zipper. Oooh, I see you spent the weekend at Breckenridge.  And two weeks ago, you were at Stowe.  And just before that, it appears that you decided you were a major shithead who was going to make sure everyone knew you hit the slopes hard all through the season.  Like a boss.  You were going to brandish those motherfucking lift tickets for everyone to see.  Your friends would marvel at you.  Complete strangers would turn their heads as you walked by and they’d be in awe of your snow carving prowess and all the wild and exciting places you’d been to.  Every hot chick would shag you on the spot.  All because you have some sticky printed tags with dates on ‘em hanging off an oversized paper clip on the side of your Patagonia jacket.  Fuck you, so you went skiing.  Or snowboarding.  So did everyone else, bitch.  No one gives a shit.  So stop pretending like they do.  No one’s impressed with those stupid tags you’re collecting.  When I go skiing, I make it a point to rip those fucking tags off the moment I start my walk back to the parking lot to get into my car to get the fuck outta there.  And you know how stubborn those stupid tags are.  Simple flesh and bone cannot tear those things up, you’ve got to practically use garden shears to cut away at those things.  But fuck it, I do whatever I can to start ripping up that now-useless lift ticket tag the minute I’m done.  Stabbing it with my keys usually does well to start a tear from which I start mangling that stupid thing.  But nine times out of ten, I’ll end up stabbing myself with the little wire hanger.  Stupid piece of shit contorted paper clip.  Still, the bloodshed is well worth the ability to not to look like a complete and utter douchebag with these tags hanging off my jacket.

Ron Wood in Uggs

Male Uggs. Take a look at Ron Wood above.  He’s motherfucking Ron Wood.  He’ll polish off a quart of vodka, do a dozen lines, then take the stage with the Stones and rip the goddamn roof off the Metrodome faster than a December snowstorm.  I don’t give a shit what anyone says about the Stones these days , Ronnie Wood is as still pretty bad ass.  And yet anyone in their sane mind would still want to punch him right in the balls for wearing Uggs.  I think this is what happens when rock stars stop drinking.  They make the worse choices in life.  Just take a look at Chris Cornell’s solo career.  But dudes who wear male Uggs deserve their own little corner of hell.  Nevermind that Uggs were singlehandedly the most irritating fashion trend about five or six years ago – especially when it seemed to be take off in places like Santa Monica WHERE IT NEVER GETS COLD!! – but you jerkoffs arrive late to the party and still insist on forcing your way in with these stupid boots?  Is it just me, or is it more than a bit creepy that these dudes are looking for ways to emulate teenage girls who frequent Abercrombie & Fitch?  What’s the next stop for you, those sweatpants with the “Pink” stretched across both asscheeks?  It takes some rare skill to so perfectly meld ‘creepy’ and ‘stupid’ with those boots.