I Hate Me, part 371,000
Carrie and I went to a wedding last week. I needed a new suit as the last one I bought didn’t fit. I made the mistake of buying it at the exact second I was at my lowest weight PD (or Post Diet), I’ve put some of the weight back and blah blah blah. Anyhow, Carrie talked me into buying a black suit, which is stylish (and I’m all about style, see my layout in GRCQ (Gentlemen Record Clerk Quarterly)). This is offset with one of my superpowers, the ability to generate mass amounts of dandruff. So black is a risky color (CLOTHES WISE!!, THAT SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT). So the wedding went well, my jacket didn’t look like the top of Mt. Everest (…from the dandruff, not that I needed a jacket the size of Everest). Yesterday I brought my suit and Carrie’s dress to the dry cleaner. Most of my clothes don’t get dry cleaned. So I don’t know dry cleaner jargon, I handed the attendant my shirt.
Attendant- How do you like your shirt?
I thought he had never seen the brand shirt before and was asking about fit and comfort.
Me- Well, it’s pretty nice…fits ok. the necks a little loose but the next size smaller was waaay to tight…it was probably ok but I don’t wear dress shirts that often…so you know, a bit constricting…
Attendant-I just want to know if you want starch.
Me-oh…heheheh…. I thought that..uh you wanted to know…uh
Attendant- Do you want starch?
I hope Carrie will be picking up the clothes.