# 353 (Day 18)

1. Shout At The Devil 'Expanded' (Motley Crue) *2*
2. Dreamt for Light Years In The Belly Of A Mountain (Sparklehorse) *2*

*****

Day 18

This shirt was doomed from the beginning, a totally awful, dreadful experience all day long. First of all, the picture doesn't quite do it justice. It is a very tight black/white checkerboard, cut like a dress shirt (it's a Van Huesen). I like the idea & the look of dress shirts usually, they are pretty much pretty standard fare, look okay & great because they never go out of fashion unless they have some crazy pattern. The problem I have with this one is the cut is pretty tight for a short, kindof burly guy w/ wider than average shoulders & a little gut that reminds me every day that i'm not 18 anymore, so it doesn't move well with me (i move awkwardly). Speaking of which, I've got an idea for a movie; I want to be 18 again with all the wisdom & knowledge & audacity that I have now but in a younger version of myself. If only...if only. Okay, it'd be funnier if I was 100 & smoked cigars & looked a bit like a monkey & could switch places with my grandson, wait, has that been
done? Back to the shirt...as soon as i buttoned it up i realized that either the shirt was just a little snug or my undershirt was way too thick (i think it's the fat that's making me look fat). Anyway, i was all ironed & had it on & running late, so out the door i went. I live in a part of town where there are a lot of students going to various ripoff "learn to be a blue ribbon chef" schools that cost more than Harvard Law. Consequently, the "professors" make their students play the part of a subservient, know nothing scrub by forcing them to wear wacky uniforms...now i'm sure there is some precedent set in the uniforms as far as their history, reverence, honor, meaning, etc. but all I know is the pants some of the "students" wear look like sweatpants but are a tight black & white plaid pattern. A fact I had totally forgotten until I got out on the street & passed three "souz-souz-souz-chefs" on their way to "class". Wow, my shirt may actually have been cut from the same clo
th. I easily forgot this as i walked to work, head-down, shoulders slumped, muttering just loud enough for any passers by to hear 'i've never been to chef school'. At work the copy machine, okay three of the copy machines near me are broken. The heavy set, frumpy, generally disagreeable maintenance lady from the copy company showed up just before I got my coffee. Have you ever seen that episode of the Office (US version) where Michael is wearing a woman's suit? Okay, I definitely know my shirt was a mens shirt but let's just say that the copy lady must be in tight with the black&white checkered textile people. Crap. She was there all day. When I finally got on my way back home & in the comforts of my tiny little elevator I thought I was once again in the clear...ready to fly out of the lift, run down the hall & take a picture of the thing & be done with it. But wait, get on at the second floor...stop at the fourth. I guess cordon bleu students like to smoke on the roof af
ter class, cause that's where one of them was going...happily clad in her crummy old pants. I think she saw me looking at them in disbelief & thought i was trying to look through them or something because she gave me a nasty glare as i left, like I was a pervert. Oh well, the shirt is off, the day is done & the only thing perverted is the fact that not only do some fat cats get fatter by selling this material to every crappy trade school in the country but then they add to their coffers by selling the scraps to the Van Heusen outlet in Lincoln City...a place I'll never shop again. Well, for plaid shirts at least.