+ lemme grab my utility belt.

Bonjour. 


No. Australia - no, society protests, pleads, don't wear utility belts!
If you're obviously oblivious to the shock horror that is the buzz lightyear quick access freak of a belt. 

Now look at that picture. That, my foxy readers, is no longer a belt. That, monstrosity contains more attachments than the feeble jeans loop can withstand. Think of the belt loops will you!! You don't have to be a mathematician to know that the belt surface area to electronic device ratio is completely...well, whack!! It's outraaaageous!! (yes all those a's were necessary to depict a kind of hysterical pronunciation). Right there, on a lets say 30-40cm length of poor poor cows hide is four devices.

1. An outdated iPod. - minus headphones. so really he doesn't truly yearn to please himself with the cockney humm of Ringo Starrs Yellow Submarine, but merely to appear sophisticated, trendy, up with the 'times' and as spoken by its placement upon his person 'hip'. Fail.
2. The concealed item. - Ooohh. What could it be? My guess is the good ol' pager. For when you need to impress colleagues, family, cafeteria members, friends, dogs, bosses, bus ladies, girlfriends....boyfriends that you matter in the world. You can appear like you're a man on demand, when we really all know you got your best mate to buzz you. Serious? I thought they stopped selling those in 1992. Now they're in museums as artefacts and you're still carrying one around your waist. Ya foolin no one fool. 
3. The state of the art brick-phone. - ahhh the latest in techno-ology. Colourscreen, polyphonic ringtones. Man, that girl that's got their eye on that sexalicous cowhide of his will be green with jealous rage when she sees that phone. She'll forget about her husband and do the classic double take on that manly Europian Nokia. Talk about your chick magnets.
4. The mystery machine! - It's compulsory for there to be one machine which no one knows its actual function. "Is it a palm pilot, is it a walk-ee talk-ee, or a hunk of electronics you found at Savers and you're not even certain of its true function?" Whatever it is, the way it sits on his pleated acid wash jeans...ooooh what a stud muffin....just like his muffin top.

Men. Your ego, or downstairs pride is not accurately compensated for in the means of hunks of black, leather covered techno-ology. Don't try and defend it's worthless and non-existant honour. It's not 'convenient', it's not saving you any time. Is it that difficult to put your bricky phone in your pocket? That'd probably do you more accidental good than weighing you down on one side. I bet in twenty years time, you'll be able to tell those idiots who wore these monsters simply because of the 45degree angle they lean on. And don't you dare take the the belt off and then chuck in a bluetooth headset because so help me I'll come after you and rip it off of your ear. Don't make me blog about wireless...crap!

You're not Lara Croft, you're not on a mission, you're not inspector gadget or Buzz Lightyear.

Burn the damn belt.

(would just like to mention the integration of the fannypack to creat this awful combo)

Stay Tuned.
life's narcissistic narrator.
+hann.


-OVER AND OUT-