Foot Candy

I am in the midst of a recession, working as an unpaid intern, and as such I have been doing a lot of browser-window shopping. I haven't owned a pair of Nikes in a grip of years, but I'm thinking about changing that as soon as I come into some paper. Further intensifying this desire are the epic fucking user-designs you can put together in nike's customizing shop. As I suck at basketball, I opted for the Action Sports section, but you can do this shit to anything you want. Epic.


In honor of my Trojans kicking ass in the NCAA tourney:




















And in honor of me being a steezy motherfucker:







































Holy shit. Still, things could be worse, at least I'm not lusting after the Louis Vuitton Kanye West Sneaks (thanks Black Raibow):

















Or else, the fucking dominating new Chinese Air Force 1s, which admittedly I mainly want for the box: PS, HighSnobiety is my new fave:

















Oh god... Sorry, I'm kind of having a little fauxmosexual freak out here. Anyway, if you're broke like I am, a nice cheap compromise can be checking out this shit.

This dude Ian has assembled a ton of lacing techniques, which was something I didn't even give a shit about until I realized it was an effective way of taking my mind of my shit being in ruins. Some highlights:

This, I couldn't actually make work:














But this was pretty easy:














The Line method, coupled with some nice new red laces, have helped me to fall in love with my chucks all over again. Anyway, I'm currently twitter following a number of steez based blogs and site sand shit so I'm hoping to be blogging some more steez myself in the future.

Dear Bill Murray, Please Come to My Next Party

Okay, so I broke my longstanding habit of not reading full articles to read an amazing article about my fucking hero Barack Obama Bill Murray, star of every movie I retroactively loved from the 1980's, and one of my all-time favorite Christmas movies.

Well, according to a totally interesting article in the usually shitty NY Post, Bill Murray is apparently now crashing parties, apparently for the lulz.

This is great news. I understand that not everyone will be as moved as I am to read this epic article, but basically, the recently divorced ghostbuster/ international mega star is now spending his nights attending random parties and talking to strangers at bars. We're not talking random parties in the sense of random Hollywood parties. In the article, it talks about him showing up at some crappy house party at some crappy apartment in the middle of NYC, the crappiest place in the world (EAT IT NY-- LA FUCKING RULES!!!!1!1!!!one) hahaha disregard that, I suck cocks, New York is actually pretty okay Fuck New York.

(In related news, I just found out how to use strikethrough)

Anyway, so basically, one of my greatest heroes is apparently now just raging with strangers of my generation. The article seems to indicate that he's doing it mainly to pick up chicks, but I feel like this is not the case, since if he were looking to meet new babes, he'd probably just reenlist in the army and meet some saucy MP's. I like to think that the old guy is just looking for a good time, of the non load-busting variety. So, in the spirt of that, I would like to invite Bill Murray to attend a party at my apartment next semester. We will schedule it around his busy... schedule. Bill Murray, please message me privately so we can set this up. This would be the greatest Celebrity moment of my life, even better than seeing Neil Patrick Harris at some art show in Culver City. Please note that Bill Murray is now my most under-used tag, so I will try and incorporate more BM (Bowel Movement?) themed posts in future.

Steez: Detroit Sprinkles

Okay, so I feel like I shot my wad pretty early with those Clae Shoes. I mean, Steez is in the name of the blog, and yet I don't have much else in the way of epic steez. Therefore, I bring to you some other Stylish Steez: Detroit Sprinkles. I heard about this from a buddy of mine who I guess co-owns the place, and my guess is it's going to be blowing up any second now.

I went to some art show that I may or may not be posting about soon under the heading of Culture, since that's the most cultural shit I've done in weeks, and I basically saw hipsters as far as eye could see. I was dressed like a cross between a total asskicker and a total douche, which I guess is sort of the way to do. As my roommate commented, if we'd of had horn rim glasses we woulda fit right in. Basically, this just hammered home for me the fact that semi-ironic shirts are the way to go.

The close (deliberate, trust me) are pretty baller, and while I don't own any because I am officially out of cash, I feel qualified to inform you that you oughta. What separates these from any other shirts? I donno. Who cares? Nobody. They're probably sort of pricey, but you're probably paying for quality, or integrity, or some other intangible shit. Basically, you're paying extra so that when you go out trying to be hip and steezy, you'll be certain that nobody else is gonna be rocking the same baller shirt, and that they'll all be eyein' you up thinkin how fresh your threads is.

Steez: Clae Shooz

Also, since this blog is ostensibly about steez, I think I'll share my steeziest steez, and then never return to the topic again.

Cousteau, like Jacques (they're boat shoes-- get it?), are an epic set of shoes from an epic company of shoes, Clae. I read about them over the summer and was given a pair by that broad I get around with and who now, in a fit of hypocrisy, mocks me when I wear them. Still, they're epic as shit, and make me feel like a true fucking player whenever I gad about in them. They're not the most comfortable things in the world, but that's because I'd a dude, so I'm used to wearing vans all day. They're probs about as comfortable as a standard pair of like fancy shoes or whatever. Anyway, like I said, I feel like a million fucking bucks when I wear em:



Translation: you wouldn't want to wear them if you were walking a couple miles, they're more like what you'd want to leave as part of a trail of clothes to some hot broad's bed, becuase she saw your epic taste in sneaks and immediately wanted to jump your bone.

TL:DR-- wear these shoes, get laid.