I apologize if this post cums from a place of sadness fashionasties, butt you have to understand that for the last three and a half weeks, I’ve been entirely FRANNIED. I’ve left the real world, and had been living at the Sheffield residence. Now that I’ve completed the boxxx set, I feel like Franny was my long time nanny, and now I don’t know what to do or what to watch anymore. So werq with me as I process this sore subject.
I don’t really know when the initial trannysformation took place, but I recollect it happening instantaneously. The transformation I’m tawkin’ about is my Franformation. My sister Meredith reports that in the last three weeks, my hair got larger (meaning I just pinned in a pomadore), I began to garb myself in more suitcoats, heightened my obsession with tartan plaid, and I developed the nasal laugh…
It got to the point where on XXXMas Eve aka the second cumming of Jesus Christo (remember, we gotta always look haute for when he descends from [seventh] heaven with Kirk Cameron) I no longer communicated in either of my native tongues, English OR Fashun. I solely spoke in the language of FRAN. Nasal laugh, making Jewish family jokes, and almost always wearing sheer black stockings. Whatever gets ur roxxx off, right?!
Butt don’t worry! It’s nothing to be afraid of. Like most fashion iconoclasts, we must not ride on other’s coat tails…we got our own style and flair fashionasties! Fran just owned hers every day with loud outfits, a louder voice, and a real witty knack for dirty puns, every day at the Sheffield residence and she is my ultimate fashionasty (s)inspiration…
The bigger the hair, the bettah if you ask me!
If you need a FRANTERVENTION like I did, just call our Fashionasty Headquarters at 867-5309.
© JAKE THOMPSON