that on the other blog I used to write - the one where I kept my private teen-angst shit, I have six comments on my last post. Two tell me they read my blog with interest, before offering me fake degrees. Two tell me they read my blog with interest, and that I should read theirs, which "is just about my daily life as a park ranger". Two tell me they read my blog with interest and that I should get a 50 DOLLAR ABERCROMBIE AND FITCH VOUCHER just like they did.
I've been to Abercrombie and Fitch once. In New York. It was really dark and the assistants all acted like they wanted to be your best mate when you walked in and asked you if they could help with anything and what have you but they weren't really looking at you when they said it so you kind of felt like maybe they weren't really all that bothered in knowing what they could help you with so you were probably best off just going and looking for yourself and they had sofas and rugs in the middle of the bit where the clothes should be and not much lights on, which I expect was to add to the AMBIENCE and I tripped on a rug that the sofa in the middle of the bit where the clothes should be was sitting on and felt a bit stupid and a bit cross that even if I'd have had a question to ask the assistant that I would think they'd answer, rather than just pointing and sneering, I wouldn't have been able to do it on account of the music being SO FUCKING LOUD AND UTTERLY SHIT MY BRAIN WAS BLEEDING.
I didn't much care for it.