Vote by leaving a comment, but only vote for one in each category please.
For example: Best: #whatever Worst: #whatever… Then you can write any fool thing you like but you gotta make it easy for us to count this shit.
The winner and SUPER loser will each receive a personalized LDG tshirt with their name and the enviable title Black & Blue Ball: Best/Worst Dressed 2010!
Who are they? Why don’t they require oxygen like the rest of us? And who manufactures these suits? Aren’t they afraid of a “Your Suit Suffocated Me” lawsuit?
So many questions.
Keep in mind here that they are in the desert, and that they are attending a pool party. Imagine feeling sweat in all your nooks and crannies while your buddies are stripped down into their breezy swim suits, splashing away happily in the pool like drunken monkeys. These friends don’t even feel bad for you, though, because they don’t even know you’re you. So you “smile” for the camera with your equally daring coconspirator and hope the irreparable damage to your body will win you a free t-shirt.
This woman’s outfit looks seriously uncomfortable, which, apparently, takes you far in the Best Dressed category. No but really, y’all, she’s wearing a petticoat, a corset, and feathers in her hair. In like 104 degree weather. See how the makeup is starting to run a little? Well, it can run all it likes, cuz this bitch ain’t no wilting flower and that smile is staying on her face come hell or hot water. Because she’s rad. And because it took her and a friend like a month to make that dress. And damnit, she looks good.
I kind of want to just hand this girl best dressed because she has such a pretty smile and such fresh, clean good looks. She looks high on life, and that’s not the kind of high you usually see in Vegas. Plus that bustle. I don’t know what it is about bustles. It’s like you put an ass-shaped article of clothing on top of your ass and BAM! magic. Plus it’s all silky. And the stockings. She looks totally Moulin Rouge, which is a little cliche, but she’s so damn hot that I’ll take it, anyways.
I can’t pretend like I understand this catchphrase. I find its lack of sensible innuendo delightful. I get it in the derby sense, of course. Yes, Powerful Ref, you point at the box and I skate over to it and pout. You win. But the innuendo part? He could have stepped it up a bit with “While we’re wearing knee pads…” or “Two girls. One box” or “I like my whistle blown.” But had he devised a more clever assphrase, his spot on the Worst Dressed list might be compromised. We skaters don’t want our refs to be cleverer or faster or more smarter than we are. We like a lot of rough on our little ref diamonds. So, sir, thanks for sort of putting us in our place.
We salute your audASSity.
It takes balls to show off your balls, whether they’re actually your balls or really your roommate’s socks. Nevertheless, this beautiful man’s fearlessness proves that going wrong can be oh so right. It’s his authenticity that impresses me most. Sure, his crotch might be stuffed like a child’s Christmas stocking, but look at all that hair. It dances up his thighs, trails happily up his belly, and sprouts gleefully outside the bounds of that sequined halter V. It thrives beneath his nose, stretching east and west like it’s 9:15. You can’t see it on your screen, but up close and in person you would see these well waxed tips have also been glittered. And then, his hair. Head hair. Perfectly teased. Perfectly round.
Thank you, sir, for squeezing so much spandex and sparkle into so little clothing.
Whoa. What a cool dude. Not only is his outfit fabulous but so, too, is this picture. This dude is chilled out. He’s in Vegas.
Look closely at those legs. There’s a reason the garter is on his right thigh, for, ladies and gentlemen, his left thigh is taken… BY A HERD OF ZEBRA. I can count three. Maybe there are more. Maybe there are three zebra having a threesome. I don’t know; but I like to think that he got dressed and, on his way to The Ball, thought, “This outfit is missing something. I’m not committed enough to the zebra stripe. I know what I’m missing: The Perfect Zebra Tattoo.” So he stopped by his hotel lobby’s brightest tattoo shop to seal the deal. I’m sold.
Vote for your pick by posting a comment below. Do it like this:
Photos courtesy Sarah Ruiz. Thanks for shooting, Sarah!