"It's like killing a unicorn, with like, a bomb."

On (the 2nd) Sunday (of the month), we went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market and it was SAD. My natural hatred of people usually sets my mood for the day, but the prices and lack of inspiration made me extra pissy and ultra people-hate-y. $15 for a rusted out metal milk crate? $120 for a scratched up table? Indie/hipster gals and dicks looking the same as they did LAST year? I love people watching, but what's the point if everyone looks the same? Clean out your closets and get new clothes! Annnnnnyway, I tried to shake up my look (well, Jaya heavily "suggested" I go this route) and wore over-the-knee socks. Yes. I crammed my meaty calves and crackling knees in some Target-bought black socks.

The only picture of me with least amount of "moon-face."

Jaya went her tradish-y self while proclaiming her love for Coca-Cola.

Lovin the color of the background sky. I'm sure Jaya'll want a shirt in that color.

Highlights of the flea market:

On left: Just like me, with the awkward posing and freaky foot. On right: Going for the middle-school-yearbook classic picture pose of "hand underneath chin".

Should we have gotten this? Maybe. It's the best Mormon wedding dress/muumuu.

If it's another billion-ty months before I go back to the Rose Bowl Flea, I'm okay with that.