The low point.

So I found out a few weeks ago that Theory (a store that my girlfriend calls her favorite) was having its sample sale. Despite my over willingness to admit when I think a man is good looking, I did not rank high enough on the Kinsey scale to know what a sample sale was. My girlfriend informed me that the sample sale is when Theory unveils its new line of clothing to see what sells better (all at “discounted” prices).

I am sorry, keep reading. I swear I will try to make this funny.

So my girlfriend tells me yesterday that she made off like a bandit at the sale. She got a jacket and two pairs of pants for $319, whereas they would normally be $860. So she thinks that she has saved over $500! That is if you take Theory’s normal price as the objectively correct price and not something more reasonable. But that is fashion for you. I try to keep criminals off the street and tell jokes in my spare time and have the economic fortitude to live with my parents (not for much longer), while some guy can sell size 6 pants (I think that is what my girlfriend wears), made of cotton and stitched together by a child for my weekly salary.

(For the record my girlfriend oscillates between a 0 and a 2 and would be very offended by the size 6 references above – just kidding).

So as part of my new marketing strategy I am now charging $85 for my CD “Racial Chameleon,” but it is on sale on my website for $12. You guys will practically be robbing me if you buy it!

This is where I have fallen to people. Pushing government paper and not getting passed at clubs has led me to become a critic of the economics of women’s fashion. Perhaps if The Sopranos did not suck I could critique it. Or if Knocked Up was as good as everyone claimed I could talk about that. But I am left with discussing Theory.

I lied. This wasn’t funny and I didn’t even try.