Rarely is the question asked, "Is wearing Guess Jeans still cool?"

I am trying to type over the sounds of my roommates dying computer. The fan is running constantly even though it is 70 degrees in the condo. I figure that means my roommates computer is about to fail, because my brother's computer did the same thing before his fan chocked and took the hard drive with it. As soon as I am done with this post I am going to turn off my roommate's computer and wait for it to die on him. That way I can't get blamed for his hard drive failure, and for him losing all those stored Blondie mp3s he has stolen off the limewire.

Actually, I could not wait that long and I decided to finish this post on my computer where all I hear are the crying sounds emanating from my computer monitor. The sound is a lot like a dentist's drill only sharper and less inside your head. It is still annoying; although, slightly less annoying than a cooling fan in its final death throws.

I was supposed to dedicate this blog post to JessieBot3000. We were having a conversation at my checkstand the other day about a customer who came through our line. I tend to make remarks about every cute girl who passes through my checkstand. I make sure to comment to my bagger whenever I chat a cute girl up with all my highly effective and clever grocery store clerk banter.

I was telling JessieBot that the girl in my line could have liked me because she liked our conversation, but Jess disagreed. "Anyway," she said "She has a boyfriend, and the boyfriend and her looked like a cute couple, like they were totally meant for each other."

"But I like alternative chicks." I replied. "And if that girl was truly alternative she could see past my dorky clothes and unassuming wanna- be-preppy style for the alternative dude that I really am."

I may not drink Pabst Blue Ribbon and wear skinny jeans, but I am nothing if not all about breaking down sexual stereotypes and gender roles. I just don't feel the need to wear my faux trans gender persona on my sleeves.

I told JessieBot that I had no idea how to dress myself.

"I have no idea what is cool to wear anymore. When I was in high school Guess jeans where all the rage. I don't think Guess jeans are cool anymore."

The couple next in line overheard me talking to JessieBot and the female offered up her opinion about Guess Jeans. She told me that she thought Guess jeans were still cool and, "if not cool at least they are not uncool."

I wondered aloud if the old guess jeans were still cool. You know the ones with the little triangle and the question mark.

The couple laughed and agreed that the triangle style Guess jeans were no longer cool, "unless you are being retro." Which I guess makes my point. I still have no idea if the jeans themselves are cool or not. All I know is I would look ridiculous in a pair of acid washed skinny 'triangle' Guess jeans.

"No one would think I was being retro. They would just assume I was white trash and wonder where I parked my Camaro."

The world is patently unfair like that sometime. I don't know why I can't dress like the hipsters and pass off their goofy looks. I guess it is because I think the whole idea of dressing in some particular style because it is somehow suggestive of your personality is pretty insipid. I mean I know you think that too, but that's only because you are a bigger dork than I am and people point and laugh at you when you go outside.

Even though you can't be one of the cool kids you still want to be one. You even believe the hype that somehow something as retarded as fashion has meaning. You think a "personal style" reflects something about that persons "artistic soul." You just don't get it. That's why you look awkward copying all of the latest fashions you see out of magazines.

You can't mimic an artistic sensibility just because you have a personal style or a creative flair for grouping shirts with belts. All you have is style. All you have is a burning desire to fit in. And people can smell desperation a mile away which is why people stay so far away from you which is probably just doing you a favor since if they ever got close enough to smell the real you they would get a whiff of that uncontrollable body odor of yours and hate you for the very good reason that people hate things that smell like feet.

Unlike you I didn't just "opt" out of the mainstream aesthetic because I have an alternative body style (i.e. because I am fat or ugly.) I opted out of the the mainstream "looks game" because I refuse to play by rules that are only meant to fuck you.

The game is fixed. And I don't think telling ugly people they are beautiful does them any favor. That's why don't support the alternative hipster movement. I don't think we need another group of people feeling empowered because of the way they look.

First, because I don't think you get to change the rules as you go along. Second, because judging people based on their looks is immoral. I don't want to make everyone beautiful. I just want to end beauty. It's the difference between my radicalism and your cowardly incrementalism.

The whole system of lookism is wrong, and all you hipster snobs are making the same mistakes of judging people based on their taste and their clothes that all your enemies (preppie trendy cheerleader girlfriends) did to you back in the eight grade, causing you to get all depressed and start wearing black. Like we all don't know how sad you feel on the inside already.

All I am saying is that if some trendy hipster snob is going to judge me because she can't take me seriously, all because I wear normal clothes that don't drop off my ass like I am some kind of wanna be inner city Compton gangster, then she can kiss my ass- because she is the least alternative person I have ever met. All she is a snobby stuck up trendy who looks better in black than in pink. She is no better than the empty headed Paris Hilton impersonators of this world, and no amount of copiously underlined passages of Sylvia Plath could suggest otherwise.