Detarded

I managed to leave the house this morning dressed in dark blue jeans, a striped French dress shirt, Converse low-tops and no belt. Tellingly, my wife and I were discussing Big Bird (or as I was calling him "Big Burden"), Sesame Street's lovable-but-retarded avian castmember. This is God's way of getting back at me.

I didn't notice I was without a belt until just a few minutes ago. I set out to recover from my mistake. Strategy one: see if I can untuck the shirt. Cool guys wear their shirttails untucked; so can I. Fail. The shirttail is too long, hanging almost to the backs of my knees.* Strategy two: turn failure into success! If the shirttail is so long, why don't I "let it all hang out" by tucking in the shirt, but then "poofing" it over my waistline. Voila, you can't tell if I have a belt on or not.

* See next post.