Girl, take off those Ugg boots

Before I begin offending the masses with my pretentious (but awe-inspiring!) fashion perspective, I should let you in on my fashion philosophy. \nSo, do I have a fashion philosophy? I couldn't tell you, but I sure as hell like to pre-game before a good kegger and cut holes in whatever I'm wearing out that night. And that is usually followed by long moments of satisfied gazing in my full-length mirror, repeating things like "Daaaamn" and "I'm Awesome." Sometimes I even bust a move.\nMy fashion philosophy also runs by rules, such as one of the more important ones: I refuse to wear sweatpants to class. I'll let all of you Kappa Alpha Cotton-wearers take care of that for me. But, please, keep it up! Reading words on a girl's ass while I'm trekking to the Indiana Memorial Union always puts a smile on my face. Oh, what does your ass say? Does your ass say 'Hoosiers'? Well that is just crazy because I actually have a few friends who go to IU. (Insert "It's a Small World After All" theme music here.) \nAnyway, I'm not really sure if scissor abuse and "scorns elastic waists" count as a philosophy, but I just enjoy making an effort. Otherwise, how is that one perpetually tan guy with the popped collar going to distinguish that one chick in gauchos and oversized sunglasses from that other chick in gauchos and oversized sunglasses? I'm just trying to make things easier for everyone involved here (especially for those who dwell in Smallwood).\nDon't get me wrong, though. It's not like I'm sporting Prada shirt dresses and Manolo Blahniks to class or anything. (Well, I'm not really sporting Prada or Manolos anywhere because I would have to sell my feet on craigslist to afford those bad boys.) Still, sometimes I do think that immobilization is a sacrifice I'm willing to make. \nBut for now, almost everything I own is "vintage" — a euphemistic term used to illustrate things I paid 30 cents for at a dirty thrift store in Gary — and Forever 21. Laugh if you must, but if you dig around in that overstocked, well-lit cloth asylum long enough, you will find that well-patterned babydoll dress among those dreadful camouflage minis (and all during the chorus of a poorly-executed Christina Aguilera remix.) And nothing there costs more than $3.80, I swear. \nHere's the thing: it's not that I'm that cheap, I'm just that broke. Broke-ity broke. So broke that I just said "broke-ity broke" to demonstrate how broke I actually am -- I can't even afford good humor, but I think that just adds to my flare. Paris Hilton is never on the best-dressed list, and do you know why? She's never turned one of her mom's old skirts into a shawl because she couldn't afford to purchase the one she saw at Urban Outfitters. Marc Jacobs just gave one to her. That's not creativity, that's just rich as hell.\nSo, that's me: broke, ambitious and abounding in things to make fun of. Love me or hate me, but, most importantly, stop buying those godforsaken Ugg boots!