Dear BikeNewBlack, Skinny Jeans & Poor Grammar

Dear BikeNewBlack,
I read Hot Dog Days all the time. (You went to high school with my cousin.) I can't begin to explain how excited I was to see that you decided to start answering emails on your blog. The reason I am writing you is because I'm a little out of it these days, fashion wise. I live in a small town in Northern Wisconsin and the closest mall is thirty seven miles away. I should mention that I'm a single man going on forty. I have been shopping for jeans online but I'm not sure I know what I'm doing. Can you tell me what the difference between "indie rock skinny" and "new school hip hop skinny" is? Should a man my age even be considering skinny jeans? Thanks! Keep up the good work so I can continue to live vicariously through you.
-Clueless in Wisconsin

Dear CIW,
First of all, Wow! You live vicariously through me?!? Ahhhh, thanks...I guess. Secondly, I have no idea whatsoever who your cousin is, but please, say 'hello' for me. Third, and most important, thank you! You, my friend, are the first person to email in a question.
It's funny you'd ask. I actually discussed a similar question with a friend of mine just the other day. However, I'm curious as to what websites are using this terminology to describe their jeans. Not that I haven't heard the terms before. Both styles are in the skinny category (obviously) and are labeled rather appropriately. I guess for someone living in the middle of nowhere it might not be so self explanatory, so I'll give it a shot. Indie rock skinny jeans, often made with "stretch" material, are ridiculously tight and form fitting. Like, I can see your cock and balls, tight. Despite the name, it's more likely they were made famous by fans of indie-rock than the actual indie-rockers themselves. In my humble opinion, IRS jeans only look good on very few people; mostly females and punk-rockers. New school hip hop skinny, often times labeled "slim," are still fairly tight, but with a bit more wiggle room, if you know what I mean. Kanye West and Chris Brown can be seen rocking NSHHS jeans on the regular. As well, new school indie-hoppers like Cage and Yak Balls, among others, have traded in their baggys for the tight look. Hence the name.
I work in an industry with some aging rockers and many of them, several years older than you, wear tight jeans. I don't think your age is a determining factor in this case. As for shopping for jeans on the Internet; I'd advise against it. When shopping for skinnys (or slims,) it's been my experience that you actually need to see how the jeans fit before purchasing them. Even if you've worn the same size of Silver Tabs (or even 501s) for years, more than likely the fit is going to change when going skinnier. Also, something as simple as the wash or dye of a jean can compromise sizing. Believe me, I can relate to your geographically challenged shopping situation. (Just ask your cousin.) However, driving 37 miles to the nearest civilization will be far more rewarding than Internet shopping. Being the single man that you are, skinny jeans might not be the only thing you take home from the mall. Good luck!

Dear BikeNewBlack,
i picked up one of your mix cds last summer...it was laying on the table at kieren's after one of the poetry slams...once in while i look at your shitty blog...i never left any comments because i dont want to create google account just to tell you that i think you're selv indulgent little prick...thank you shithead for posting your email address...i just have one question....who do you think you are?...i mean i do know woh you are but who do you think you are?...Bitch!

Just when I thought you didn't know any form of punctuation other than the ellipses (of which, I am a big fan), you went and used an exclamation point...and you even capitalized the b in Bitch. Excellent, my man, excellent!
Who do I think I am? Good question. Funny you should ask; I was just talking about this with a friend of mine. We came to the conclusion that I am probably not as much the things I think I am as I am the things other people think I am. Or maybe it was the other way around?


Dear BikeNewBlack,

See that new feature over there on the side, right under my profile info? Yeah, that's new. I'll entertain most anything. Give it a shot. "Louie, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Or, if you don't already, you might end up hating me. Either way, it's worth it, right?


"I turned my back on society the day society turned its back on me...

...got any spare change?"

On one side of the street this...

...and on the other, this...

Like literally right across the street from each other. On Sunday, both of us were a little depressed about Randy losing to Brock the night before. We still managed to pull ourselves together and head to Venice for the afternoon, knowing that would surely lift our spirits.

Ahhhhh, the Venice Beach boardwalk. Believe it or not, I had never been to Venice until yesterday. One would think that I guy like me would've been there long ago.

This guy was dancing to some techno and yelled "Hey gringos, ayaihyai" or something at us.

The first thing we ate were 1 dollar hot dogs, of which Dan was not a fan. I went for some teriyaki a little later.

I was hesitant as to whether or not I should get this because of possible, shall we say, side effects. ahem. Dan said he'd rather shit his pants and continue to walk the boardwalk than use the Venice Beach public restrooms. I gambled and went for the teriyaki anyway. Happy to report I did not have any complications.

Dan opted for the trusty Gyro.

If I could have gotten a front shot of this guy, I'd be submitting it to Street Boners for sure.

This place is freakin' sensory overload...and I like it.

We watched the roller skating dancers for about 20 minutes. Dan said he could have sat there all day.

The world-famous Muscle Beach. Only one dude was working out....and he was wearing a speedo. I think Hulk Hogan and Sting used to pump iron here.
Me and the Master of Disaster DP, hangin' out front of the Venice Skate Shop. While we were walking around, perhaps inspired by my surroundings, I mentioned how interesting it is all the life choices one can make. Dan bluntly responded. "Yeah, and then, 30 years later, you're still on Venice Beach." Just then this guy rolled by on a scooter.

I never would have thought that the Run DMC shirt would have caused such a ruckus. But right when we had had enough and decided to leave, we were approached-hassled is more like it-by a crew of dudes trying to get us to buy their "self-produced, independent hip-hop" CDs. When I refused, they berated me, calling me a poser for wearing a Run DMC shirt and saying "this nigga don't know nothin' 'bout hip-hop." Oh man, I had to hold back. I decided to laugh it off instead. But seriously, I probably had 10 years on these kids. Trying to tell ME I don't know hip-hop, sheeeeeeit.

After that, we went to the grocery store to prepare for tonight's BBQ feast.

Dan's famous ribs.

Washed down with a shit-ton more Coors Lights of course, per our agreement to pound several cans a beer each night. Then the jacuzzi once again.
Dan gut.
I don't think I have mentioned my two pals for the week, Dan's roomies Bogey and Tiger. They cuddle together, which is unbelievably cute. Yesterday, after enjoying a Double-Double, "animal style", at In & Out Burger, I hopped on a plane home and crashed the eff out. As we landed the pilot came on and announced "Welcome to Minneapolis everyone. The temperature is 19 degrees." A loud, collective moan erupted from the passengers. Fuck yeah, I'm home...and now I got a damn cold.