This morning I had one of those moments when I sat down on my toilet seat lid and contemplated reenacting that moment when the Incredible Hulk literally busts through his clothes, ripping them into teeney tiney wee little shreds. Not because I had muscles paying homage to the joy of steroids but because my chosen shirt for the day was that unbelievably complicated to get on. I originally chose it for today’s attire because I haven’t worn it since, like, January and it’s purple and pretty and makes me want to say things like “Don’t you just luuurv jewel tones?” But about halfway through the process of trying to get the damn thing I totally lost all desire to talk about jewel tones and got pumped up to talk about how I rip the heads off poor defenseless kittens when I get annoyed.
So I sat down, defeated, on my gleaming white toilet seat (bleached the night before, naturally), my right arm held captive beneath the purple sweater, my head through the opposite side of the shirt and the tie thing in the back that’s supposed to lay delicately and gracefully at the back of my neck was at the front of my neck, hanging limply and dejectedly, no grace about it.
I should explain that this is no ordinary shirt. It’s one of those festive criss-crossy shirts that are supposed to accent my accentable areas and draw attention away from my unaccentable areas. But this criss-crossiness doesn’t just happen in the front, IT HAPPENS IN THE BACK AS WELL. And in an attempt to make the general population scream in futility, the makers at Gap have decided to give you helpful little sewn-together areas so that, theoretically, you should be able to pull it over your head. BUT LO, there is a tie at the neck! So that your back boobage doesn’t mistakenly tumble out! Danger zone! Alert! I’ve yet to fully comprehend the purpose of the neck-tying area but WHO AM I TO JUDGE, I leave projectile bottles of bleach in my trunk, just asking for a summery day to render it a veritable missile of goo!
So anyway. I decided to wear a green shirt today instead. One with a nice normal v-neck and two regularly shaped arms, no criss-crossy about it.
8 comments:
Times like these make me glad that I'm a dude.
amen carl. amen.
the title of your post made me giggle. yesterday we were at a stoplight next to a greenhouse. there were these two thugs standing on the sidewalk and i yelled to them, "HEY! PANSIES!" the looked at me as though they wanted to yell something back, when i pointed to the sign above their heads and yelled out, "8.99 A FLAT!" they busted up laughing. i had a larf. hehe.
I tried to take one of these shirts off a girl once, and despite the fact that I had even paid for dinner I lost interest halfway through the process.
a gentleman always carries a pocketknife and enough cash to replace any shirt he cannot easily remove from his female companion.
This morning I had one of those moments when I sat down on my toilet seat lid and contemplated reenacting that moment when the Incredible Hulk literally busts through his clothes, ripping them into teeney tiney wee little shreds.
Shit.
You got me all sanguine that we were in for an epic about lovecraftian amounts of radioactive poop.
You disappoint me, Robin.
You just lost my readership.
They should make all clothing come with an "emergency" velcro release, just so that no one accidentally chockes to death.
Wow. Just as well they don't make men's pants that way, to "accent their accentable parts".
ugh.
I was thinking the same as faltenin.
I propose the invention of men's pants that come equipped with padded, built-in cups, complete with extra padding for the little guys.
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