It's Christmas Party season. I likes me a good Christmas Party--particularly when they're thrown by the hospital where my wife works and involve free-flowing rivers of heavy hors d'oeuvres and booze. In years past, though, I've always fussed over what I'm going to wear. Normally, I don't fret over my clothing so much, but such a swanky affair makes it feel like a high-pressure situation. I don't own any clothing even remotely festive, so I've sometimes worn a sweater. But then I always get there and feel like I've somehow dressed down, or could at least have tried for some sort of color, or should maybe have worn a suit, etc.
This year, I decided I would just wear a damn suit and be done with it. Only then I had the dilemma of what shirt and tie to wear with said suit. Naturally, I started making these choices about 30 minutes from the start of my Friday shift. Rather than rush into a bad fashion decision for the sake of getting to work on time, I just grabbed half my closet and put it in the car. I also made sure to take my black shoes, which were way too dressy for work, but which I could change into later. And I put on my black belt, which would go with the both the dress shoes and the black Chuck Taylors I was already wearing with my jeans.
As I hauled all this stuff in to the library and hung it on our coat-rack, Mrs. J rolled her eyes at me. She doesn't like her men to be fussy about fashion. Mrs. A and Mrs. C, however, delighted in helping me pick my outfit. In the end, we decided on the brown shirt and a black tie with blueishy brownishy circular designs on it. It wasn't particularly festive, but it all matched. After that it was just a waiting game for 7p to roll on by.
At some point in the afternoon, I went to the can. I reached down and undid my belt in preparation for dropping trou. Only when I got the belt unbuckled I found I couldn't feel the button of my jeans beneath it because there was something blocking it. I looked down and saw that beneath the black leather belt I had just unbuckled was a buckled brown leather belt. I stared at it for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
I still don't know how I managed such a feat, but apparently I'd put on a pair of jeans from a couple of days ago that still had my brown belt in them. It was only later that I added the black belt, and had been in too much of a hurry to get everything together that I didn't notice. It was genius, I tell you!
My coworkers have now christened me Juice Two Belts. They said it's my Indian name. Got it posted it on my locker and everything.
4 comments:
I am soooo glad you are part of my family. Life is to short to be without such fashion statements!
Hmmm...Juice Two Belts, eh? Not many men need two belts to hold their britches up. Must be all the money in the pockets. You ARE a highly paid liberryian, are you not?
I am a library director in a small Kansas town. I just stumbled on to your blog while looking for something to put on the wall to discourage parents from letting their kids run amuck in the library. Your blog is one of the funniest things I've read on the Internet!
Thanks for brightening my day!
Jan
I got through most of a workday with my shirt on inside out once. I try to aleays mention to coworkers the difference between being polite and being mean.
Not telling me in front of a patron that I have a visible bugger = polite.
Not telling me that my shirt is in inside out and letting everybody in the building think I rode in on the short bus = mean.
htw
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