"Oops, it's a shrug;" A discursive phenomenon in all caps.

What is the deal with shrugs, anyway?  It has the potential for full-fledged sweaterdom, but it’s as if someone ran out of yarn halfway through.  “Oops, it’s a shrug,” they probably said.  “I’m sure some fool will buy it.”  And the next thing you know, all the girls at the mall are wearing little sweaters that keep their boobs warm while unflatteringly presenting their bellies to the world all “Hey, look at my belly!  Also, doesn’t this shrug make me look adorably foreshortened?”

People, it’s not as bad, perhaps, as leggings or the jeans-under-a-skirt phenomenon, but it has got to stop.  There’s nothing I hate worse than browsing the clearance rack at Banana Republic and seeing what looks to be a promising sleeve (cable knit, chocolate brown), pulling it out to examine the sweater, and then being cruelly disappointed when I discover that, OOPS, IT’S A SHRUG!

The only real fruit of this phenomenon has been that I have started using the “OOPS” construction when I need to say something obvious: OOPS, MY LUNGS ARE MADE OF CHOWDER, for example.  This is especially fun when using an Austrian accent. (As in, OOPS, CALIFORNIA IS RUNNING OUT OF ELECTRICITY.)

Try it yourself and see.  Had an unpleasant experience at the movies this weekend?  I have just the exclamation for you:  OOPS, M. NIGHT SHYAMALAN IS A SELF-AGGRANDIZING BOOB. Got a midnight craving for a burrito the size of your leg? OOPS, I JUST ATE FOUR THOUSAND CALORIES.

This might just be the sort of thing that only I (and select, elite others) find amusing, in which case, I apologize for wasting your time.   OOPS, I WROTE ABOUT A PERSONAL JOKE ON THE INTERNET AND IT WASN’T VERY FUNNY.