In which I’m dumb again

School was back in session today, finally, albeit with a two-hour delay to let the last of the below-zero temperatures bleed away before the kids had to be outside waiting for buses. Unsurprisingly, facing a shortened Friday after three days off something like 48% of the student body opted to not bother coming to school, so it was really peaceful around the building today.

I showed up for work today in a button-down grey shirt, sleeves rolled up (I always roll up my sleeves; I despise the feeling of fabric on my lower arms for some reason,) with a blue-and-purple Jerry Garcia tie and a brand-new purple sweater vest. It marked the first time in my life I’d ever deliberately worn a sweater vest, and my last thought after looking in the mirror before going to work was I have never looked more like a middle-aged middle school teacher in my life than I do right now.

I didn’t mean to buy the goddamn sweater vest. It was literally a stupid accident. I was at the fat man store last week sometime buying T-shirts (as it turns out, my policy of buying shirts at the cons I go to has put me in a position where most of my wearable T-shirts are con shirts now, and I needed to reassert the proper solid-color balance) and I saw the sweater on a table on the way out. I liked the color and the subtle pattern and I bought it on a whim, not realizing until I got home and unfolded it to hang up that it was a damn sweater vest. I don’t even know why I dislike sweater vests so much; it’s an irrational prejudice but I still have it.

A sensible person would have just returned the sweater; I’m keeping it out of spite. Against, apparently, myself and my own bad decisions.

And then two different kids over the course of the day compared me to Rick Ross, who, if you don’t know, is the dude in the picture up there, a picture I obtained by Googling “Rick Ross sweater vest”. One might think that that might be a sign that sweater vests are perhaps his thing, but no, it turns out shirtlessness is more his thing, and I will never as long as I live be photographed shirtless, full-body torso tattoos or not. I think the kids probably thought they were making fun of me, but I feel like any day where I walk out of the house thinking I could not possibly look more like a middle-aged middle-school teacher and then get compared to a famous and wealthy rapper is a good day even if the main point of comparison is that we’re both fat and bald and have bushy beards. I’ll take what I can get, dammit.

In which I have to buy clothes again

middle-finger-poster-flag-6185-pOnce, just once, I want to buy clothes without it leading to mental trauma and a blog post.  I just wanna go buy some damn clothes and then wear them somewhere without any bullshit being involved.

Yes, I know it would be worse if I was a woman.  If I was a woman I would almost certainly have been reduced to simply wearing muumuus everywhere and never leaving the house, because men’s clothing is complicated enough.  And I hate, oh do I hate shopping for clothes, especially shoes and pants.

You may be taking note of the season and realizing that I probably went to buy shorts today.  And, worse, because all of the bullying has finally convinced me to buy shorts made of something other than denim, I had to buy something made of not-denim, which is ever so much worse.  I go into this fucking weird-ass mental state whenever I’m trying to buy khaki shorts where all the sudden I don’t understand how clothing works at all, or like, how to dress or how to match shirts with pants and shit like that, which is why I still prefer jean shorts, because jeans go with anyfuckingthing.  I recognize intellectually that at this point khakis work the exact same way– hell, I saw a grown man in turquoise shorts while I was shopping, and he looked fine— but I can’t make myself actually believe it.

Also– and, again, ladies, I know what you’re about to say– but while I was buying the shorts, I was wearing 38 inch waist jeans and 34″ boxer shorts that both fit just fine.  The shorts?  All 44s.  Because sure, that makes perfect sense.

And since I bought them at Kohl’s, the Kohl’s Curse will be activating any day now, and at least one of them will inexplicably not fit in a week despite them all being the same brand and the same size and cut.  This happens every single time I buy multiple garments from Kohl’s.  One of them just suddenly doesn’t fit, even if it was fine when I tried it on.

Whining over for the time being.  You may go about your business.

Face to face job interview tomorrow…

…on less than 24 hours notice, so you KNOW it’s District Four. Which means I need to buy a suit. Tonight.

You can probably imagine that “buy a suit” is totally my favorite thing to do.

Totally.