I've raced on the computer until I'm cross-eyed, wow that's fun, just gotta take a break.
There's a tale of a question that's been going on for years here at Weeville. I've been meaning to write it up, to see if it's entirely unique, or if maybe some other married guys have sort of splashed in the same pool.
It's a shirt. I'm a blue jean shorts and t-shirt guy, but I'm expected to wear what I call a "costume" to work. Khakis and a collar shirt. It goes with the job.
Sue Unit bought me a shirt about 10 years ago, she loves it. She says she loves he way it looks on me. Well, I don't love anything about the way that I look and I don't care, but she sure does love to dress me in this shirt.
She'll lay it out for me to put on and if I have a meeting with live people that day, I'll trade it for another one from the closet. Any other one.
I don't have a lot of self confidence to begin with, but if I'm actively thinking that I look even more ridiculous than ever, I can't concentrate on what's going on. Even less.
I've sworn to throw the shirt away, and she's sworn to keep it in the rotation. Like Grandma's flowery Victorian sofa.
Just wondering - are we Weevilians most especially messed up if this amounts to entertainment for us?
There's a tale of a question that's been going on for years here at Weeville. I've been meaning to write it up, to see if it's entirely unique, or if maybe some other married guys have sort of splashed in the same pool.
It's a shirt. I'm a blue jean shorts and t-shirt guy, but I'm expected to wear what I call a "costume" to work. Khakis and a collar shirt. It goes with the job.
Sue Unit bought me a shirt about 10 years ago, she loves it. She says she loves he way it looks on me. Well, I don't love anything about the way that I look and I don't care, but she sure does love to dress me in this shirt.
She'll lay it out for me to put on and if I have a meeting with live people that day, I'll trade it for another one from the closet. Any other one.
I don't have a lot of self confidence to begin with, but if I'm actively thinking that I look even more ridiculous than ever, I can't concentrate on what's going on. Even less.
I've sworn to throw the shirt away, and she's sworn to keep it in the rotation. Like Grandma's flowery Victorian sofa.
Just wondering - are we Weevilians most especially messed up if this amounts to entertainment for us?
Comment