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It’s been a long time since I posted a picture here, hope it works. Well, I guess if you’re reading this it worked, the question is how much cussing did it take. Who the fuck knows.
I was getting tired of my old facebook photo and the shirt in this picture cracks me up. It called itself a bowling shirt. There must be a haight ashbury league. It’s not a very good photo of the shirt or me, but it does give one the general concept, and although I have a proceeding forehead, I do actually have a lot of hair.
The shirt has gold Koi on it, but you can’t tell from the picture. Should be fun wearing that bowling shirt around town. Liberal arts schmiberal arts, college that is, this town is much more conservative than, say, Portland, where the weirder you try to be the more you get ignored. Made it easy to go shopping in my pajamas. Why not? Golfers go 18 holes in theirs and I don’t wear plaid bottoms with striped tops. Um, I only wear pjs to shop in. Pj business casual.
Truth be told, a dubious proposition at best that, truth telling, there are several flying fucks I don’t give and a handful of still life shits I don’t give with the same fervor, about whether or not I’m ignored or stared at. I dress either for my own amusement or the arousal of a lover (to encompass my entire life, I just have the one and given my druthers she will always be the one. Um, she seems to be more aroused when I’m sans clothing, which I don’t completely understand but entirely appreciate).
You’re still stuck on still life shits. Flying fucks are colorful, flying shits just evoke the need to duck even in type. In general I find still life shits artful and shit videos not so artful. I’ve never typed still life shit before, the occasion hasn’t presented itself, but it should be implied. Flinging or flicking shit means the equivalent of the Brithish expression taking the piss, unless, of course, you are a monkey. I wouldn’t put it past you, being a monkey, just to flick me shit.
Anyhow, that’s me in a shirt, by and far the wackiest shirt in my closet that wasn’t a “gift” from my brother. Ok, the bunny ears weren’t necessary (still life bunny ears, air quotes used in type, which sort of makes them just plain old quotation marks. I’m going to keep calling them bunny ears.). The other wacky shirts are gifts from my brother, the bunny ears were to connote that some gifts are in response to a spouse saying “Jesus Christ, toss that shit will you? Clashes with your Pj’s.”
Post Script; three tries, seven Fucks one shit.
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