January 21, 2012

You Can Put Lipstick on a Pig...

Dressing me up is a lot like declawing an alley cat.  It is gonna be a struggle and you might get a few bite marks, but when it is all over it is worth it.

I am a slob.  I am messy.  I am most comfortable in beat-up sneaks, torn jeans, and a shirt more holey than the Pope.  (Yes, I know it is spelled 'holy' when referring to something religious - but I was going for the easy joke...and yes, that joke was weak, but if you have read any of my other blog posts you would know I live off of weak jokes.  I wouldn't be able to write a blog about anything without weak jokes.  So, just laugh it off, and move on.  You're better than that.  Don't get so hung up on such a small thing, that really has absolutely nothing to do with this post.)

Where was I?  Mister Messy Bill.  I think I would be most comfortable if I stole and wore the clothes off of a hobo.  I hate shaving, and wouldn't mind the look the Uni-bomber made famous.

I hate getting my haircut, although my wife is a stylist.  I am a bum.  I can't make it any plainer than that.

I am not one of those hoarders, that keep a collection of their favorite piles of rat feces.  I love to be clean, just not well groomed.  I hate the feeling of being dirty, but I guess I don't mind the look.  I love smelling my armpits after the shower and smelling Lilac Melon Vanilla or whatever body wash happens to be in there.  So, don't get the wrong idea...I am clean.  I just like the idea of looking like a vagabond hippie, without the stank.

But, I do clean up nicely.  Sometimes, I am sporting the 80's look, but that is simply a lack of money to buy the latest hottest trends.  I like my "real" look, however, but it's hard buying clothes every few months, when the styles change.  Every time, I buy something new, by the time I get it to the car, it is no longer in fashion.  So, trying to pick an outfit out of my closet and not looking like Zack Morris is tough for me.

  I don't own a suit and I can't tie a tie.  Eventually, I am going to have to grow up and put on a pair of big boy clothes.  I am a second grader trapped inside a man's body (although, I am sure some would argue that last part.)  I use to borrow my black socks from Shannon, because my socks all included the words 'white tube' in the description.  My white undershirts look like they are Desert Storm camouflage (and probably bought the same year we started that war.)  So, I guess you get the picture or you have a real difficult time with reading comprehension, I am disheveled, unkempt man.

Shannon, however, is not...and doesn't like me to be that way.  *See 'Alone in the Bathroom'. Although, if honesty prevails there are those moments when I look at myself in the mirror, and in my best Fernando Lamos voice say, "You look mahvelous."  Because, when I rock the tux - I look like a scrawny sexy James Bond without the cool gadgets.

So, if you invite us to a wedding, bar mitzvah, christening, baptism, BBQ, graduation, funeral or just a gathering of any sort, I promise to look half presentable.  That is the best I can do.
Bill's big night on the town.

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