You know that period at the end of the night, when that girl you’ve been eyeing at the end of the bar, gets up and stumbles to the door to leave, without saying goodbye to you, even though you made eye contact with her like twice, and she just heads out, and you have no choice but to follow her, and rape her and then leave her on the side of the road, bloodied, or in a river, if you accidentally killed her, while you were forcing your 300 pounds of man on top of her.
Wrangler knows that period. And they’ve made the perfect jeans for it.
Good job Wrangler for attempting to make dead women seem fashionable. You guys should consider rotting in hell.
Futurist, Husband, Lover of Small Animals. I'm the quintessential jaded New Yorker with a mind for all things fashion. My articles are the type you'd expect from the popular girl at school; mean spirited and ready to pour some pigs blood on your homemade prom dress.
