because, in the words of the girls, doiiii. because they are the best thing i’ve ever seen on the boob tube box. because you can’t fake a friendship like theirs. because, aside from all the pot that they do and i don’t, in my own twisted version of reality, i should basically be the third bestie breezy to ilana glazer and abbi jacobson. because i desperately want to roam the streets of manhattan and specific parts of brooklyn like i was a boss bitch. because it’s not enough to adore these two and their show – abbi, love you boo, but because ilana’s style is just. the. best. as another short brunette with tits and hips, i am eating ilana’s steelo UP. crop tops, yes. high waisted shorts, yes. matching two-pieces with just a sliver of skin in the middle on blast, yes yes yes yes. bold lipstick, door knocker earrings, tube skirts, criss cross mega femme sport bras, lots of denim and cheap tank tops and boys undies a la marky mark paired with saggy, baggy boyfriend jeans. OHMYGAWDYESSSSSSSSSSSSSS. plus she’s latina and has the curly dark hair of an angel. i. mean. what else could you possibly want from a bass ass superwoman?
so in my effort to channel more ilana in my everyday life, i went searching for her bralette thingys because 1. i hate regular bras 2. i hate bra shopping 3. i’m not a huge fan of boobs in the first place 4. i love squishing my not-loved boobs into one uncomfortable uni-boob which is what happens when you wear sports bras 5. finding and buying and wearing strappy bralette thingys would undoubtedly make me closer to ilana and ergo, being in their clique. or at least in a clique that they run into randomly sometimes whilst dog-sitting in central park or going to abbi’s art shows or getting a pretzel from a corner cart. you know. aaaaaaaaanyways, here’s where i found them for $12 sheesh you’re a pushy crowd. get ’em while they last bishes. i can’t wait to inappropriately play peek-a-boo with those straps in my oversized skin-bearing summer tank tops. who says you have to dress like a librarian from the 1950’s once you pop out a kid? because you don’t. and that was probably racist. i love librarians.
strappy bralette, check. now just troll thrift stores for baggy 90’s jeans and sweatshirts that can be cut into scandalous crop tops, anything high-waisted and too short/too tight sweaters, tank tops and tees. throw on sporty tennis shoes, high tops, biker babe boots or sexpot heels, your favorite pair of door knockers and a bold shade of lipstick. fro out hair as huge as possible and hit the streets. stop at bodega for blow pops and chocolate milk. get enough for you and bff. go find her, sit on street corners sipping cocoa milk and talk shit. have the best day of your life. fin.