This is what I have to look forward to in life: Free Jeans. As I work at a magazine, and as I work in fashion, I basically work for free. As a fashion editor, though, the perks are free things, commonly referred to as swag by everyone else but me. These things, this shit, as I like to call it, consist of but are not limited to, XL t-shirts (hi, faggot fashion editors are not XL), rapper alarm clocks, ugly shoes, canvas tote bags, small bottles of new PREMIUM liquor, and last but not least, Free Jeans. I get so many goddamned jeans I could clothe fucking Africa in original selvedge ringspun Japanese denim. Most of them look the same, too, and strangely, jeans in the $100-$200 range are much nicer than jeans in the $300-$500 range, which consist mostly of such hand-finished details as hand-painted whiskers, hand-stitched back pockets, embroidered bullshit, resin coating, hand-painted whiskers ON TOP of 3-D whiskers, hand-sanding, hand-holing, and hand-balling (FUCK YEAH! [oh that's a joke BTW]). Today, I got a free pair of jeans AND an XL electric blue pima cotton t-shirt. And tonight, after the parties I'll probably have an additional free pair of pumps! Throw this in and a salary that amounts to barely above minimum wage, and you get a grumpy ass man. As I was telling a cute, yet not so smart friend of mine, "I literally make my salary a year in free shit."
"Coooool!" he replied.
"No, not cool dude, I make less than my rent a month."
"Oh dude, sorry. So what do you do with all that free stuff?"