This is one of those things that is SO NOTEWORTHILY TERRIBLE that I am pretty sure I am going to choke like Sasha Cohen in an important Long Program, and fail to do it justice:
FRINGE. BOOB SWIRL. ILLUSION NETTING. AND MORE FRINGE. I keep hearing those words in a loop, set to the tune of Target’s “DENIM, Shawn White Hoodies and DENIM” theme song,” except with “FRINGE” in the place of “DENIM” and, you guys, I would take a Shawn White hoodie over this, because I could work with that. Instead, I’ve got half a joke about mold, three-quarters of a gag about a paper shredder, and a fifth of a jest about a fax machine, a beaver, and rabies. I’ve got part of a joke about figure-skating — although I already used one, so that’s out — and part of another joke about the fancy wall hangings at my local Chinese restaurant, and then a hint of a gag about formal guest towels, and a wee bit about fire hazards mixed in with a dash of something about inadvertent self-strangulation, and a teeny hair of something about what’s going to happen when she gets all that fringe stuck to her lipgloss. I’ve got a totally half-cocked yada yada about horses’ manes — or possibly their tails? — and then a wholly unbaked blah blah blah about how her shoes totally don’t even match. I CAN’T MAKE THAT ALL WORK. THIS HAS BROKEN ME. SO MANY REFERENCES. SO MUCH CRAZY. I’M BROKEN. I’M OUT.