Do you know what I hate?
Well, I hate many things, hmm? But what I really hate is mediocrity.
I was sliding into a new pair of super-uber-skinny jeans today (I have one a day, then they're disposed of. This is why the homeless population of Paris is so chic. They're photographed frequently by those websites that do that sort of thing. There's an entire movement called "Le Skinny Jeans Society de France" which is founded upon the principal of my disposal of jeans. No, really. There's over 500 homeless people who are in it- many of them lost weight- all that cake they were eating- to fit into them. And at exactly 8.AM every morning in Paris, I throw my old pair of jeans out of the window it's like a bridal bouquet: they all lunge for it and one of them gets it and then they celebrate by going "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! Darhling!" They're heard those words from the fashion week people, you see. And they see the fashion week people as disciples so they copy them: "Mwah", and "darhling" are sacred words. They are the Bible of the "Skinny Jeans Society de France." It's obviously a very short bible, since it consists of only two words. But this is chic. Anyone can learn those words, but only the true believers can utter them properly. It's like sex with a Chanel jacket: not just anyone can do it. It is not accessible....like your humans are obsessed with.)
Anyway. I was sliding into my brand new pair of black skinny jeans as I thought of all the people in the world who cannot slide into skinny jeans like I. I thought: How sad it must be for these people; they have my pity.
Then I thought: No, they don't have my pity. They are mediocre! Skinny jeans are a test, and passing it is like achieving a doctorate of some kind. People don't think: "Oh, I have pity for that person: they're not a Doctor.", or "Oh, I have pity for that man. He is not a billionaire."
And skinny jeans are like that. You don't have pity for those that cannot fit into them, just as you don't have pity for someone who isn't a Doctor of philosophy. That, would be wrong. Yes, it would be wrong children. Wrong like how you feel when you eat that stick of celery: "Ooooh, I feel so bad now. I just had a calorie."
So I managed to equate fitting into skinny jeans as having a doctorate, which is all perfectly fine, I thought to myself as I ordered a goblet of diet coke and soaked in the bath (wearing my suit as per usual.)
And then I realized that demode people are beyond help and maybe Anna should have a charity dinner for them or something.