Shirt Stories

I just got an email from Nordstrom entitled, "Easy Ways to Wear Colorful Shirts."  I feel out of the loop, because I did not know that wearing colorful shirts was difficult.  I assume I'm not the only one who is just now been made aware of this.


To help spread the word, I have created the following list:


10 reasons that colorful shirts can be hard to wear.


1. Sleeves and neck holes.


2. Buttons.  Buttons can be difficult to fasten, especially in the dark and without a mirror.  If just one button gets misaligned--and you don't notice--you end up looking like a drunk, or a 3-year-old, or a 3-year-old drunk.


3. Shirts and Skins.  The historical animosity between shirts and skins is well documented.  Have you ever heard of the phrase "Shirts and Skins" used in a non-competitive setting?  Well, have you?  Answer the question!  That's right, you haven't.  The following exchange never happens, Guy 1: "Hey, your shirts look good!" Guy 2: "Thanks! So do your skins!"  Ok, maybe there was a Tailor/Trapper shop in the 1800's where that exchange happened, but not recently.


4. Desire to go shirtless. Hot days can make certain people want to take off their shirts.  These people, the shirtless, are almost always male, and they suffer from something.  We do not know what that something is.  Science doesn't care to get close enough to find out.  Needless to say, it is hard to wear shirts when your shirt is off.


5. Lack of Service.  Without a shirt, coupled with shoes, there is no service.  There is never any mention of pants on those warning signs.


6.  Lousy T-shirts.  Sometimes your parents go to a nice vacation spot and all you get is this lousy T-shirt.


7. Shakespearean angst.  To tuck, or not to tuck: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The breeze and airflow of out-hanging tails,

Or to take arms to slide said tail into trouser,

And by opposing end them? 

SIDE NOTE: You may have noticed that up to now this list is less about colorful shirts and more about shirts in general.  This is because all shirts have color as a major component.  Allow me to illustrate:


A guy walks into a, um, bar, I guess, wearing a white shirt and someone asks, "what color is your shirt?"  His reply, "it is white."  He does not reply, "it has no color."  So, if even white shirts--the least colorful of shirts--have a definable color, then all shirts must be defined as having color.  Ergo, all shirts are colorful (i.e., full of color).  However, I would now like to list 3 difficulties of wearing shirts of specific color.

8. Red shirts attract bulls.

9. Camouflage shirts are hardly seen at all, and when they are seen they make you look like an idiot (unless they are part of a uniform, in which case you look awesome.  USA, USA!). 

10. I am a Winter, and there are certain colors that I just can't wear.  No matter how easy Nordstrom makes it for me.

Sock Hop

Hi.

By most standards I am not a picky man when it comes to day-to-day things.  Especially things that are provided to me without much effort on my part. I am almost always good with whatever I'm given.  Happy even.  I don't complain about service at restaurants, or the way food tastes (unless I am the one responsible for preparing it).  I'll admit I have lots of weaknesses, for example, I am not prefect at spelling, or at controlling my damn language (oops), or at getting regular haircuts, but when it comes to NOT being picky--I'm not bad (I don't swear all that often either).

I probably need to rethink my personal picky-ness stance.

Last week I realized that I needed some new dress socks.   Again, I'm not picky, the only thing that I need from my dress socks is (a) for them to be black and (b) for there to be lots of them in the same style so that I don't have to worry about losing one from time to time.  To accommodate these two criteria I usually will buy a large package that contains lots of socks.

I often buy my socks at Target.

This time was no exception.  I entered the men's clothing area and sought out socks.  There side by side hung two seemingly identical packages of socks.  One was 50 cents cheaper than the other.

The following thoughts ran through my mind:

     -A penny saved is a penny earned.
     -A penny in the hand is better than two in the bush.
     -A penny in time saves nine.
     -A spoonful of pennies helps the medicine go down.
     -See the cheaper socks, pick them up, and all the day you'll have good luck.
     -... six cows ... seven cows ... EIGHT COWS!

Then, the music to Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas started

"Have yourself a fifty cents for Christmas.  Make the yuletide gay.  From now on our troubles will be fifty cents awaaaay ...  Here we are fifty cents and stuff, fifty cents and stuff like that.  Fifty cents will be dear to us, will be near to us, and splat.  Through the years fifty cents will be together, if fifty cents allows.  Hang that fifty cents upon your highest bough!  And fifty cents, and fifty cents together...Noooooow."

I'll admit that the rhythms don't exactly fit, but as noted above I'm not picky.  And, I didn't realize until reading through my impromptu Christmas carol that I may have called for the lynching of a rapper (I do not endorse hanging Fiddy Cent on the highest bough).
   
Back to the two packs of socks: what could I do?  I took the cheaper pack.

As is often the case when I buy socks, I had a need to wear the newly purchased socks almost immediately upon purchasing them.  So I drove from the Target parking lot to the location of the class that I was scheduled to teach that evening.  That is where I tore into the package of socks.  Nine pairs total.  I selected a pair and slid the first one onto my left foot.

"Hmm," I thought.  "This doesn't quite fit like I expected it to."  I examined the package.  "These are men's socks, right?" I asked myself hoping for confirmation.

They were men's socks.  Black, dress, ankle-length men's socks.

By saving 50 cents, I had cost myself 1/4 of a sock--times 18.  Do the math (0.25*18=4.5).

For two shiny quarters, I traded the equivalent of 4.5 sock units AND the ability to cross my legs at church.

Oh well, I'm not picky.