Tuesday, March 01, 2005
The Best-Looking Suit Anyone Has Ever Purchased
There are a lot of things you can do with $10. You can get a value meal at Arby's, if you don't value your health. You can get a couple of beers, presuming you don't have an especial fondness for the Japanese ones. You can buy a copy of Dirty Dancing (Jerry Orbach, rest in peace).
Or if you're me, and you're amazingly intelligent and fashionable, you can buy a $10 suit.
This is me and my friend Jodi, posing prom-style for a hott shott before we head out to celebrate the confederacy. I wanted to get her a wrist corsage, but they're difficult to come by on short notice. Other than the fact that the sleeves are slightly short, I really don't think you can tell that this suit was purchased for roughly the cost of a 24-pack of Fresca.
Of course, you can't smell the suit on the Internet, so you miss out on that delightful Goodwill Store aroma of mothballs and old person. Sorry. The technology just isn't there yet.
You can sleep in the suit, too, and it pretty much looks the same in the morning. Unlike the rest of us. Whatever that means.
The suit is hanging in my closet right now. Along with my powder blue leisure suit and houndstooth bell bottoms. It probably says something about me that half of my closet is taken up by items more suitable for a fourth grade play than a day at the office, but I've decided not to think about that too much.
Damn, that's a fine looking suit.
There are a lot of things you can do with $10. You can get a value meal at Arby's, if you don't value your health. You can get a couple of beers, presuming you don't have an especial fondness for the Japanese ones. You can buy a copy of Dirty Dancing (Jerry Orbach, rest in peace).
Or if you're me, and you're amazingly intelligent and fashionable, you can buy a $10 suit.
This is me and my friend Jodi, posing prom-style for a hott shott before we head out to celebrate the confederacy. I wanted to get her a wrist corsage, but they're difficult to come by on short notice. Other than the fact that the sleeves are slightly short, I really don't think you can tell that this suit was purchased for roughly the cost of a 24-pack of Fresca.
Of course, you can't smell the suit on the Internet, so you miss out on that delightful Goodwill Store aroma of mothballs and old person. Sorry. The technology just isn't there yet.
You can sleep in the suit, too, and it pretty much looks the same in the morning. Unlike the rest of us. Whatever that means.
The suit is hanging in my closet right now. Along with my powder blue leisure suit and houndstooth bell bottoms. It probably says something about me that half of my closet is taken up by items more suitable for a fourth grade play than a day at the office, but I've decided not to think about that too much.
Damn, that's a fine looking suit.
