Boys are Dumb.

I wore a blazer to work today.

It's purple and velvety (not actual velvet, velvet-like cotton).

It's darker than in the picture. Much darker.

It's more like a dark plum, than magenta.

The hammer saw it and told me it was very "Hugh Hefner-esque."

Shut the fuck up, hammer.

A month or so ago, I wore a shirt with flowers on it to work. This is the conversation I had with one of my programmers, StubbornAss, about it.

SA: You look different today.

Me: Thank you.

Me: Um, wait a minute. You meant that in a nice way right.

SA: [laughs]

Shut the fuck up, StubbornAss.

What the hell is wrong with the boys in this office?

Let me explain the office rules to you since you don't seem to be getting it.

(Disclaimer: These rules may not apply to every girl)

Rule #1: Don't comment on my appearance.

We're not friends like that. We work together. I don't want to hear what you think about what I'm wearing or how I look.

Rule #2: If you really feel the need to comment on my appearance, it better damn well be a compliment.

Again, we're not friends like that. We work together. I don't want to hear what you think about what I'm wearing or how I look, but if you insist on telling me, it had better be a fucking compliment. Neither "interesting" nor "Hugh Hefner-esque" falls under this category.

And just for the record, this jacket is not "Hugh Hefner-esque." It fucking rocks. I don't care if you like it, you don't have to wear it.

Besides, if it's anything it's more "Joker-esque" if the Joker wore cute, fitted jackets. So there.