My Social Life is so Dead...

How dead is it?

Theoretically, everyone has clothes that they (and/or most people)  would consider acceptable/suitable for 'socializing.' What I mean is clothes that are not too formal, nor too informal. Something appropriate yet vaguely appealing to my rather skewed and stunted (are those hash brown options at Waffle House?) sense of fashion.

Well, jeansI have. In blue and black. So I'm halfway there.

I own khakis too, but I try not to socialize in them for fear of being charged with false advertising.

Same goes for those 'neutral' colored polo shirts and dress shirts. Not saying they are inappropriate social wear, just inappropriate for me.

I am, after all, the person who firmly believes that fun starts with felonies.

There's no sense portraying myself as someone with any kind of social refinement; people in khakis are, for instance, likely to have at least some rudimentary grasp of social skills such as choosing and evaluating wine.

My taste in wine is identical to my taste in women: I like bothready to pass out.

So I guess I'm saying that I would feel very silly, untruthful, and uncomfortable trying to socialize in what I consider 'work clothes.'

Just because my lifestyle occasionally necessitates interacting with lawyers doesn't mean I have to dress like one; the reason I always look so uncomfortable in a suit is because I'm habitually listening for "Will the defendant please rise."

Alternately, I am too old, too educated, and too sober to wear t-shirts to a social function in which I would hope to make some kind of positive impression.

Especially if they're 'decorated' with images or words of dubious social viability.

So even someone as socially comatoseas myself ought to have at least some clothes for social occasions.

I do.

I have exactly oneshirt.

Now, in fairness, I am... morphologically challenged. XL shirts are too short (and a bit too small).  XXL shirts are too big.

'Urban styling' may be the 'in' thing, but my odds of being considered, much less accepted, as either of those is lower than the odds of hearing a phrase like "George Michaels' wife..."

So I can wear a shirt that is too small and makes me look like someone who is trying to impress people by buying clothes that make me look big (which is pretty f@#$ing stupid since, well, I am), or I can wear a shirt that makes me look like I think I'm fat and I'm trying to hide it under a mass of fabric.

No wonder I'm not 'in.'

Interpret that however you choose; it is sadly applicable both literally and figuratively.

Sure, I could have clothes made for me that are stylish and well-fitting. But that makes two dangerous assumptions:

1. I know what stylish is.

and

1. I would wear them enough (i.e. socialize enough) to warrant the outlay of money.

What a lovely pair of asses I have, and that's not a poor self-body image.

I don't get out much, and when I do, I tend to fall back on my limited sartorial resources, which are usually more than adequate supply for the paltry demand.

But why am I writing about it?  Why have I dragged you through this seemingly interminable missive?

To masturbatorily impress you with my writing.

No, no, I'm kidding.

Okay, I'm not.

But that's not the reason.

I'm writing in an attempt to solicit laughter (admittedly at me), or at the least pity (there are so many potential jokes here re: clothing/lack thereof that I will mercifully not make them), because I have a confession to make.

I realized that the shirt I was planning to wear tonight is the same shirt I wore to last year's party.

How f@#$ing sad is that?

Okay, not as sad as a middle-aged man wearing a t-shirt that says "If I were a clarinet would you blow me?", but its still pretty pathetic.

As is the idea of my trying to buy a shirt today, since

A) It won't fit

and

B) I don't care if every shirt in Marks and Spencer fit me, made me look thinner and younger, balanced my checkbook, and performed illicit sexual acts on me, I'm notgonna wear them.

If I can just find that Anti-Nowhere League shirt that says "I Hate People" on the back, I'll be all set...