This week, I propose that we embark on a new voyage: one of "Faded Glory" Hunks. Specimens who had it all, but for one reason or another, completely lost it and are still waiting to get it back ("But lengli," you interrupt, "Isn't that the case just about every week?" To you I say PIPE DOWN). Our first inductee is none other than early 90s icon and Surreal Life inhabitant Robert Van Winkle, better known to you and me as Vanilla Ice; and our first topic of discourse is:

Find the rest of the list after the jump!

As I was walking down the streets of New York--on what I thought was my bespoken path--there arose a small but surmountable fumble in my journey. As I looked further ahead, I saw that the obstruction took the form of two obnoxiously slow men...loiterers if you will. At this point I knew that, in order to continue on my merry journey, I would have to bypass them.

A strategy was already a-brewin'.

At first chance, I outflanked Big John--the right hand man--with a skillful L-turn; avoiding all obstacles, saving all time. But before I could rush away unscathed, I caught a snippet that drew my attention backwards. The pint-sized character now had my undivided attention--and just as I was about to dispose them from my memory!

Pint Size: "Does she know who I am, walkin' all fast; where she gotta go?".

Let me preface this next part by stating that I am a non-confrontational, non-judgmental type person, but in this situation, the sidewalk rage overtook me. These self-absorbed fools who did not even have the courtesy to move over were complaining about my pace? They were walking 20 mph below the speed limit! At this point I observed--to my delight--that the pint-sized one looked like Ja-Rule. Man, would he ever feel small when I put him in his place.

She's realer than he is, I'd wager

So it continued: I glared back icily and give my most "Oh no you did not" stare:

Me: "You know, if you would pull up your trousers a bit so's that your crotch isn't hanging at your ankles, then your legs would be able to have a stride of much bigger breadth. This would allow you and probably everyone around you to actually walk. Now I know that it can't be comfortable that 6 inches of material is trapped underneath your Nike--this must explain why your right leg drags more than RuPaul."

Ja and B.J.: *blank stare*

Me: "Excuse me, what is your name again?"

Ja and B.J.: *blank stare*

Me: "I am sorry, but before you answer I must interrupt, well because, I have to say that I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS what your name is. See, I just turned down East 2nd, which means that I am on my street. I imagine that, judging from your attitude, you are spoiled and unaccustomed to people disrespecting you, or even *gasp* passing you without ogling your diamond encrusted dental crowns--which you would not need if you had any hygiene."

Ja and B.J.: *blank stare*

Me: "I'm sorry, did I confuse you with my hygiene remark? Well then, allow me to give you this analogical example: if you were flying your private jet and all of the sudden, Jay-Z and Timbaland started crowding your airspace, you would be pretty brassed off--chances are good that you would even call J-Lo to complain that it ain't real. So now that we're in my neighborhood, I'd like you to back that ass out of my airspace because this is my runway, and I'm ready for take-off."

After all was said and done, I looked back down the street and thought, "That would have gone nicely with my icy stare". And stepping into my apartment, I vowed that the next hip hop star to cross my path would certainly get it.

Ed. note: A big ShopWiki welcome to Danielle, our newest writer!

Don't make him be without you tonight!

Back when I was growing up, even though the neighborhood kids and I possessed hefty imaginations and lilting singing voices, all we had to document our travails were tape recorders and cumbersome video recording equipment. Thus, the only people who ever bore witness to our masterpieces were our parents, and even they were often disinterested.

However, thanks to the current golden age of the internet, true talent no longer is no longer squandered, and certainly not so for Pensacola's epically bespectacled Mark Gormley. These days, all you need to become a bona fide rock legend is some home recording equipment, a green sheet, the movie making software that ships with your computer, and a dream: with these simple items, you're free to create beautiful and expressive videos that can convey your spirit to the world. In my humble opinion, the world is exponentially better for this, and in particular, Gormley's majestic video entitled "Without You".

Remarkable?

Truly.

Don't let him steal your heart away!

Against all odds, there is a new man in my life. I cannot believe it's true, but each moment spent with him is like another day in paradise!

I remember the day we first met. I was running late to court, ready to testify for a case involving a crime of passion (it's always important to hear both sides of the story, you know), when all of a sudden, two hearts collided.

Isn't it crazy how strangers like me and my love could just randomly cross paths one day? I was running one way and he was running another. Quick as I knew it, we ran into each other and I was knocked to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he spluttered, bewilderment sullying his handsome face and showing me his true colors.

"Is that the least you can do?" I asked with a wink and indicated for him to help me up. He happily obliged, and I could tell by his eyes that he would find a way to my heart no matter what. Even though I was somewhat scared--just who was this angelic creature to whom I was already pledged all of my life?--I remember thinking, "That's just the way it is," and surrendering utterly. Separate lives were thereby linked forever.

After that first encounter, as we said hello, goodbye, he called over his shoulder to me, "Don't lose my number." (Do you remember, darling?) Perish the thought!

Since then, it's been nothing but magic. I just can't stop loving you, Phil Collins. Just can't stop loving you.

The Generation X of cleaning products

Taking inspiration from Renee's all-time favorite ShopWiki search, I was browsing through items labeled as "poop" this afternoon (some days are harder than others). While it's certainly true that there are a plethora of interesting poop products to be found, none intrigued me so much as the pet stain and odor remover shown at right.

Listen, I've owned pets: cats and dogs that defecate and vomit all over the place, and for no good reason other to embarrass their owner and make her look like a scumbag. Well done, pets, you get a treat. Oh, my hot date just stepped in a pool of warm urine? All in the name of seduction, friends. No, there's no time to clean that up: what, do you think I get all of these hot dates by spending time spraying and vacuuming? You were going to take your socks off anyway: problem solved.

But wait. It's precisely potty-mouthed lowlifes like me to whom the DogGone Poops, Oops, and Barf Stain Remover is marketed. You know the ad execs sitting around their big mahogany table were just itching to tap into that key under-30 demographic that is notoriously too lazy to clean house. "Dammit guys," one of them (Gil, most likely) exclaimed one day. "Cleaning can't be all about Martha Stewart and weirdo bald guys. We have to get ON THEIR LEVEL. Let's make it edgy."

With a previously unemployed tactic of vernacularization and hip-to-it-ism, Gil and company envisioned keggers and clean-up coexisting peacefully, generations of frat guys trotting out their hilariously-named all-natural spray just seconds after Rex, the house mascot, pukes all over the beer pong table after being fed too much canned bean dip. "Chill, man, it's ok," they would argue, "You go crank up the DMB. I got this."

Mission accomplished, bro. Mission accomplished.

You're so hot and cold with me!

Sure, sure, it'd be obvious to say Santa Claus or Hanukkah Harry is the biggest holiday hunk of them all, but that would just be too easy, not to mention an outright and dirty lie. Just because they get all the attention around this time of the year, this hardly qualifies them for this coveted title. That'd be like overlooking Michael Vartan just because Brad Pitt is in way more movies, has preposterous facial hair goals, and has an undead lady friend that pops out children at the speed of that wacko Arkansas Duggar family.

Way back before the Jonas Brothers ever came into being, there was a little TV special called The Year Without a Santa Claus, and the most important brothers in my life were the Miser Brothers: Heat Miser and Snow Miser.

Not only are they singing and dancing machines, but these characters are archetypal bad boys: veritable James Deans reincarnate (if he sang and danced, that is). Sure, they and their unpredictable weather patterns were put on this earth to make your life more complicated, but can you imagine a day without their dulcet tunes and impassioned gazes? A day in which your heart doesn't skip a beat from the sheer thrill of the thought of seeing them? A day in which you can't feel Heat Miser's woollen tufts of hair lightly brushing against your cheek, or Snow Miser's icicle-covered fingers caressing the small of your back (sometimes both at once!)?

Perish the thought! That's no life at all!

But don't take my word for it....

Misled, misled, misled

Asian guys, let's face it: Adam Quan is not a white woman. Adam Quan will never be a white woman. Why on earth would you shell out nearly 30 dollars on his advice on how to date a white woman? Sure, sure, he might think he's all studly and conquering, but asking one of your own for tips on landing a white chick is about as useful as asking a mime about trapeze technique. To date a white woman, you have to think like one.

Therefore, with this intent, I, a bona fide white woman, offer tips on nabbing yourself that white filly you've got your eye on. Follow these simple steps, and soon you'll be fighting them off tooth and nail.

Even the whitest women in the world will be powerless to your advances

1. Watch Gossip Girl. A LOT of it.
2. Go vegan.
3. Attend readings by David Sedaris or Sarah Vowell.
4. Surprise her with a cell phone covered in Swarovski crystals. Just because she claims to hate Paris Hilton (that slut!) doesn't mean that she secretly doesn't want to live like an heiress.
5. Bake cupcakes. Any kind will do, but if you really want to wow her, try red velvet.
6. Three words: Sephora Gift Card.
7. Take her to dim sum. There's a good chance she'll end up being the only white person there--how novel!
8. Begin sentences with "In my culture" wherever possible. Absolutely guaranteed to make her swoon.

Good luck! Not that you'll need it, of course.

One dream man, coming right up!

I know it's kind of a jerk move to dangle my new, awesome boyfriend in front of all of you like a carrot in front of a donkey with a beta carotene deficiency, but I just can't keep a love like this a secret. When Chris Dane Owens and I first locked eyes from across the crowded dining room at the Beverly Hills Benihana, I knew that my life would be forever changed, but I had no idea how profound that change would be. I know I've only known him for a week and two days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and....

Anyway, where was I? Oh right. I want to spread the joy that Chris Dane Owens has brought me, and so I humbly present a guide on how to make your very own. Consider it an early holiday gift. Of course, he'll only be a fraction of the majesty that is my Chris Dane Owens, but the slightest piece of him is better than none of all, right?

1. Your Chris Dane Owens needs to feel at home when he's around you. Decorate your home in fantasy art and companion dragons to make sure he's comfortable.

2. Remember, your Chris Dane Owens is nothing without the stunning good looks of my Chris Dane Owens. While this can hardly be truly replicated, you can at the very least construct an elaborate artifice. Platinum blonde hair dye, ruby red lipstick, and a perfect five o' clock shadow are essential items, and unless you're on a budget, splurge on sapphire blue contact lenses. Rrowr!

3. Chainmail. Lots and lots of chainmail. But be sure to shave or wax your Chris Dane Owens' chest so his delicate, milky skin isn't imperiled.

4. Now, some people are not accustomed to bondage gear as daily wear, but trust me, if you want a Chris Dane Owens that is as true to life as the original, pop down to your local red light district and stock up on riding boots and gauntlets. Chris Dane Owens is never as cheery as when he is clad head to toe in soft leather.

5. A broadsword. (The sword is a metaphor.)

Follow these simple steps, and in no time at all, you'll have a Chris Dane Owens of your very own! I just know you'll have many wonderful and fulfilling years together.

(If there are further questions, consult "Shine On Me", a romance fantasy. Your heart will lead you from there.)]]> http://blog.shopwiki.com/2008/12/hunk-friday-how-to-make-your-o.html http://blog.shopwiki.com/2008/12/hunk-friday-how-to-make-your-o.html guides hunks Fri, 12 Dec 2008 11:34:30 -0500 Why, yes, I am curious. What the hell is that smell?!

Britney Spears (or rather, her people) have been pushing a lot of merchandise lately. She's got a documentary, a new album, the covers of several magazines, and as we all remember from those innocent early 2000s, two perfumes: Fantasy and Curious. Though I've never sampled Fantasy myself, I have definitely borrowed some of my tween sister's Curious hand lotion in a pinch. My thoughts? That it's appropriate that Britney's new album is called "Circus" since she apparently smells like one--this stuff could only be described as "essence of cotton candy." Not that cotton candy smells bad. Quite the opposite. But though it does smell quite yummy, I will not purchase Britney's signature scent for three reasons:

Few people know that "Curious" is actually liquidized cake.

1. When I wear perfume, I want boys to feel lusty, not hungry.
2. Isn't a scent supposed to be indefinable? I don't want people to start guessing when I enter a room. "Omg, is somebody eating a Twinkie?" "No, sorry, that's my perfume."
3. I'm cheap.

That's right. I don't want to spend spend $50 on an aroma I could achieve by tucking a cookie down my bra. The good news is, you can solve a multitude of these problems with "Curious" by not buying it--and investing in these alternatives instead.

1. Opium. I don't think this smells anything like Curious, but I'll bet my bootlegged copy of Blackout that it's sexier.
2. Jessica Simpson's Dessert line. At least this way when you smell edible, you actually are. No false advertising!
3. Juice Bar. That's right, you can smell EXACTLY like something (no mystery here!) for a very low price. Seriously, a couple of bucks in a drug store. Cotton Candy, Gummi Bears--go nuts. Well, if they even make this stuff anymore. It's been a while since I was in junior high and now I'm not sure.

Anyway, here's to you, Britney, and your lowest common denominator products! Teenaged girls and middle class cougars alike will love you for it.

♥♥EDWARD CULLEN MUAH!!!11!♥♥

A movie review by Kat and an excitable tween (compiled from user comments on the Twilight teaser trailer).

POINT: Incredibly fast, skin cold as ice, immortal, OH and blood-drinking, vampires have been dominating children's nightmares for years. But have no fear that they will no longer haunt us--thanks to the incredibly laughable performance by Robert Pattinson (of the Harry Potter films) in Twilight.

COUNTERPOINT: ru seirous?? this is the best movie i've seen in 2008 *faints* so far :p n its all because of robert pattnson!

POINT: I walked into that theater with no expectations, and came out feeling as though I had just seen a train unavoidably race towards a broken bridge. I was begging and pleading with the movie gods to somehow create any redeemable quality in the movie, but unfortunately there were none--except maybe the scenery.

COUNTERPOINT: OMGGG!!!! ROBERT/EDWARD IS SOOO HOT! stop hating hater! <3 edward!

POINT: Vampires are the oldest, most seductive, most demonic and most terrifying of creatures to walk in our imaginations, and now they have simply been reverted to the level of lusty teenagers who can't figure out how to breathe steadily. Robert Pattinson, who is supposed to be playing Edward Cullen (a beautiful, captivating male specimen in the book), actually plays a teenage boy who put on too much clown makeup before leaving his trailer. While Edward's eyes are supposed to captivate his prey, Pattinson relies too heavily on what he must think are alluring glances. Furthermore, when he opens his mouth, he can't manage to speak correctly.

COUNTERPOINT: he can bite me anyday! omgg! all of thosee who say roberts lame annd stuff are gay and really dont know what girlss wantt. HE IS EFFING PERFECCT. [:

POINT: Not only were the conversations between Isabella (Panic Room's Kristen Stewart) and Edward clipped and awkward (as they are apparently supposed to be falling in love), but they can't manage to be within a foot of each other without quivering. I understand he is a vampire and maybe Stewart was trying to act scared, but seriously, quivering and speaking softly only make her seem like a chihuahua. A character who is falling in love with something that could kill her should probably act more confidently.

COUNTERPOINT: *throws up* What the hell is wrong with you. this movie was amazing stop complaining and saying negative stuff ok??? tHNKS!!!! their perfect together. edward is so hot and i love how he just always wants to protect her. i want a guy like that! i'm gonna go watch it again! all the vampires in this movie are hot too, girls and guys!

POINT: Although Stewart pretty much shakes and shivers through the whole movie, she finally stops when confronting a rival vampire who threatens to kill her mother. When this rival breaks her leg and she is finally bitten, Stewart makes a pretty good effort to die well. Her acting actually seemed convincing as she writhed in pain on the floor.

COUNTERPOINT: you would of shook too if you were next to him i cried and everytime robert pattinsons face came on screen i started hyperventalting! ur just jelous!!

POINT: It was sad to see some plot points conspicuously absent from the film, but even sadder to realize that the only excitement was the hope that Bella might actually die so the movie would end. But instead, a 30 second "epic" battle ensued between Edward and the rival vampire. Frankly, it was pathetic. The muppet vampire show at the end of Forgetting Sarah Marshall was more epic than the entire two hours of Twilight, and we only saw a minute of that.

COUNTERPOINT: it is nothing like forgetting sarah marshal, there is no forgetting in it, and to even compare it with that, youve obviously never read the book or seen the movie

KBAI!!! <3

Roadbag: The Power of You!

I just wanted to let everyone know that the next time you are driving down the highway and some jerk cuts you off, he may not be talking on the phone. No, now we have a completely new problem. Apparently, when the no cell phone rules for the road came out, some inventors had to go out and create something else to distract the men driving. Thank goodness this product is not made for women--I can now legitimately say we are better drivers.

Want to know what the product is? The Roadbag. Don’t know what it is? Well here is a hint; it is a small little bag that can be used to store liquids. It uses special chemicals to solidify the liquids into an odorless gel form so that it can be stored safely and out of sight.

Still don’t get it? Well, the original product was designed for fighter pilots so there would be no incidents in-flight when going after the enemy.

Ok, I’ll just tell you.

It is a bag for men to use the bathroom in while in the car. YES, THIS ACTUALLY EXISTS. Apparently using the rest stop bathrooms wasn’t good enough--now guys can drive continuously and just pee in a bag. So if you think some big shot businessperson is cutting you off because he is on the phone, think again. Instead, that guy is just using the “restroom”.

Subways in flu season sucked worse before the advent of hand sanitizer.

You've got it. I've got it. That guy that coughed on you on the subway two days ago apparently had it. The good news? We all have the flu together. The bad news? In search of relief, we're all going to be reading a lot of "medical advice."

This "medical advice" will be very boring and give all sorts of "expert" tips like "eating fruits and vegetables" and "resting."

What I want to know, in the midst of my own recovery process, is why there's so much emphasis on health information being "correct" or worse, "helpful?" Why not advise people to do things because they sound like they might work? Heck, I do that all the time. And I'm going to do it right now.

Friends, I'm going to level with you: I'm running a fever of 102. I'm likely delirious and not a reliable source of information. But you know what? I'm no "doctor." I'm not "trained in medicine." I don't "read books," technical or otherwise. That's why I think you'll trust my advice. So here are my personal thoughts on the real reasons people get the flu, and what you can do to protect yourself.

INFLUENZA: The True Causes

Culprit #1: Sleep

You know how you always seem to wake up with the flu? Those horrible aches in your neck and back, that pain in your throat like somebody kicked you in it? You'd think that tall guy from Phantasm came to your futon overnight and kicked the crap out of you. Take it from me, friends; don't go to sleep and the flu can't get you. Well, at least it can't get you while you're sleeping.

My RX: Caffeine pills; Whatever the teenagers in Nightmare on Elm Street were shooting; Crack cocaine.

Culprit #2: Hydration

Nothing can survive without water--including the flu virus. And is it just me, or is nothing more uncomfortable when you have a fever than a cold toilet seat? Kill two birds with one stone: avoid the bathroom the entire time you're sick and don't let those nasty germs get an ounce of your body fluids by not drinking anything.

My RX: An espresso and Diurex cocktail at the first sign of the sniffles.

Culprit #3: Sick Coworkers

Okay, I get it, we're all poor right now. But it's still disgusting when people go to their jobs with what appears to be the ebola virus. Since so many people lately refuse to stay home when they're down with a bug, why not boycott the whole situation and call into work yourself? If you can afford it, take October through February off. Heck, do it even if you can't afford it. Your health comes first.

My RX: Watch a lot of the Montel Williams show and work on your online Dental Hygienist certification. Looking healthy, Montel.

Culprit #4: Repressing your germs

Did you learn about diffusion in 8th grade science? Me too! That's where I developed this theory: if you've got flu germs in your body and you want to lower their concentration, spread them to the outside as much as possible. Because by doing things other so-called health "experts" recommend like "washing your hands" and "using your own toothbrush" you're only trapping the germs in your body. So get out into a public place and start coughing on things!

My RX: Share the wealth, and be generous. For example, don't just touch the buttons on a Metrocard pinpad--rest a few used tissues on them. Better yet, get curious and see what a Metrocard pinpad tastes like. Yum!

No you guys, I can totally do some spread sheets, just get me my laptop.

Culprit #5

Okay, so this isn't an actual cause of the flu. But I figured if you took my other advice, you've been staying home all flu season and you can't afford to miss a day now that you're actually sick. Lucky for you, nothing beats the healing power of coworker pity. Set up an array of medicine bottles and a heating blanket at your desk and watch the sympathy roll in. If no one seems to notice, visit each person's cubicle personally and clear your nasal passages in their doorway. I guarantee that eventually they'll ask what's wrong with you.

My RX: Make it clear to everyone that 1. You are at death's door, and 2. It's contagious. Only a very precise balance of their compassion and animal fear can cure your flu.

Or not. I don't know, I kind of just made that up.

That's all for now, folks. I'm due for another swig of Nyquil. Until next time, stay healthy. And if you can't manage that, at least make sure that nobody else does.

Ed. note: A safe and happy Thanksgiving from all of us at ShopWiki! Overlooked will return next week, once we've recovered from the deadly flu + tryptophan cocktail.

Mr. Rogers: loved by humans and primates alike

Joaquin Phoenix of The Village and Ladder 49 fame has recently announced his retirement from the acting world. Oh, what will we do with one less former alcoholic actor in Hollywood (Editor's Note: Depend on Robert Downey Jr.)? Although Joaquin is a great talent and I think I speak for the entire movie industry when I say that he will be missed (Editor's Note: She doesn't), what concerns me is not the fact that he is leaving to pursue a musical career (we all know how that one goes; I'm looking at you Scarlett/Lindsay/Keanu) but rather that with his departure we will instead have to contend with Zac Efron.

For those who have been living in a cave with the Taliban for the last couple of years, Zac Efron is the current Disney poster boy and the star of the previously #1 movie in America, High School Musical 3: Senior Year. The thought of a young generation of movie-goers obsessing over the overacted and thinly-plotted (but somehow not trite) franchise that is High School Musical is scarier than seeing a fully grown and extremely hairy man wearing a diaper and a bonnet while sucking on an enormous pacifier as a Halloween costume on the chilly streets of New York City. You would think that no fully-grown adult male would perform such a disturbing act. You would be wrong.

But really, what I want to know is where in the world has quality educational programming gone? I find it hard to believe that TV execs can't find someone up to the task of substituting for Mr. Rogers, the immovable monolith of children's television. Blue's Clues may have been close, but that mushroom-induced Technicolor dreamscape was, at times, a little creepy. Pee Wee had a shot too, but then he had to go all stuff-shaking in a porn theater.

Mr. Rogers was a legend. He and his neighborhood made me so happy growing up because he was the only white guy I knew who changed his shoes when he went inside his house, something all of my friends perceived as freakishly obsessive and Asian. Other great shows, especially early-era Nickelodeon cartoons like Doug and Hey Arnold! made my childhood. These shows made dinner enjoyable for everyone; we could take endlessly about the seeming scientific impossibility of a football shaped head, or whether Patty really was the mayonnaise (I don't think she was, even after Disney took over).

Loved by tween girls (several steps below primates on the evolutionary scale)

Compare that to today, when I dread going home because, thanks to my nine-year-old sister, I know that my rice will undoubtedly be served with either the big-eyed future scandal machine Miley Cyrus, or the strangely so-good-looking-he's-prettier-than-most-of-my-girl-friends, Zac Efron. And this is after my list-topping most awkward moment of my life list, when I had to explain to my sister why the show starring Jamie Lynn Spears on Nickelodeon was cancelled. Damn those birds and bees and frisky teenagers.

My summer job working at Borders Bookstores was a horrendous experience, based solely on the fact that I was stuck in the children’s section, which I wouldn’t have minded if more people asked me where the new Mo Willem’s book was and not whether I was already sold out of the Camp Rock sticker book. And imagine how horrified I was to find out that, after selling it to twelve year olds all summer, the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer contains some very graphic sex scenes (to be clear, I never recommended the books, thank God. I only commented that they seem to be very popular when anyone asked about them—as if that helps my conscience). Plus, you know, undead vampire romances really don't make good literature, but they sure do sell real good.

So here is my plea to Disney and Nickelodeon: please stop obsessing about making money and do your job, which you used to do so well not so many years ago.

And with that, I proclaim Mr. Rogers, Doug Funny, and Arnold our Hunks this Friday. May the three glorious and educational shows rest in peace in TV heaven.

(Editor's Note - If PBS played nothing but Mr. Rogers re-runs from now until the end of time, I don't think anyone would be mad. The marketing practiced by these two children's television networks has transmogrified into a terrifying mashup of sex, pop-culture and bubblegum. It's like a Girl Talk record for children, only in visual form and without being any good. This, ladies and gentleman, is why I won't let my children watch anything but Nova.)

The New Wave of the Future-Past.

Here's one: at the end of this past September, I had a crystal clear vision of yet another hipster fashion trend to come: saddle shoes. However, because I am lazy (or is it just typical hipster indifference?), my prediction post went unwritten, and according to Hard Liquor, Soft Holes, it seems I have been scooped. Curses!

(Just so you know, I was hep to this groove, man--and I had a timestamp to prove it. Now I'm the last one to leave the party, just like Pauly Shore.)

However, despite my tardiness, I still maintain that over the coming months, saddle shoes will become even more prominent in hipster populations. First and foremost, there is the huge (huge!!) nostalgia factor--everything old is new again (see: USB mixtapes, Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Reebok high tops). For those of us who weren't lucky enough to have them the first time around, owning saddle shoes as an adult can be perceived as ironic (though is that in the standard way or the Alanis Morrissette way? I can never tell): this particular footwear epitomizes youth culture--not only in the classic 1950s, rosy-cheeked, sock hop sort of way, but also in the more accessible "the identical twins in my fifth grade class each had a pair of these but I never did and I was SO. JEALOUS." way that is so very integral to hipsterdom today.

On a more practical level, however, saddle shoes are totally the perfect accessory to your (sub)urban lifestyle. Not only does their supple and durable leather mean that you're completely protected from even the most perilous of PBR spills, but you're also ready to take it to the bowling alley at any given moment (even if it's only the Wii version). And finally, what better way to concretize that old-tymey spirit than with a shoe that is so comfortable, you'll be able to trudge through waist-deep snow, uphill both ways--at the peril of being consumed by brontosauri and T. rexes--just to get to school and earn that education!

So, all you hipsters, because I'm late on this one, the next time I go tromping about the Burg, I expect that you'll all be decked out in your finest saddle shoes and I'll do some recruiting for my new gang. But you'd better get your applications in early because word on the street is we're getting Members Only jackets next year. You heard it here first.