I'm pretty sure it's official - there are no more female bartenders at Tango. At least that seems to be the case on Friday nights. I went there two weeks ago and noticed that both bartenders were dudes. Despite the fact that there were tons of other people at the place, I knew then that my night out would less eventful. I mean, there would be no one to rape me with a cucumber or give me menacing looks as I ordered a drink. How boring.
I won't complain too much though. When one of the male bartenders saw me, he handed me a free Bud Light bottle, which was pretty sweet. As I reached for my money to tip him, my sister noticed my outfit.
My Sister: I got you that t-shirt!
Me: Yes, you did.
My Sister: And I got you that hoodie jacket!
My Sister: And I got you those khaki shorts!
My Sister: And I got you those flip flops!
Me: Dude, you got me pretty much everything I own.
It's true. Out of everything in my closet, I'd say I may have personally bought two or three articles of clothing. My mom and my sister purchased the rest.
I never go clothes shopping. It's just too incredibly boring. Mostly everything's ugly or overpriced, save for the occasional shirt or whatever, but you have to spend hours looking for one, and it's just not worth my time. I also don't know what size I am. Like, the whole thing confuses me. There's large, extra large, small, extra small, etc., but then there are number sizes like 24 and 48 and 72. Which do you go by? And what do these cryptic numbers mean? I'm convinced that no one knows what they stand for, and it's all just a conspiracy by the clothing companies to get people to buy clothes.
Well, I'm not falling for their bulls***. That's why I let other people buy clothes for me. In fact, my mom has been trying to purchase a pair of jeans for me, but it's been a futile effort.
When I visited my parents' house one day in September, my mom gave me a pair of jeans she bought for me. "Try these on when you get home," she said. The following day...
Mom: Did you try those jeans?
Me: No, I will later.
The day after...
Mom: Did you try those jeans?
Me: No, I will do it later.
And the day after that...
Mom: Did you try those jeans yet?
Me: No, later.
Mom: When later?
Me: Later. I dunno.
And the day after that...
Mom: Please tell me you tried on your jeans.
Me: Nah, I'll do it later.
Mom: Why not!? Try your jeans on!
Me: I'm busy.
Mom: DO IT TODAY OR ELSE!!!
I didn't want to deal with the nagging anymore, so I finally tried them on. They were like a vice. I could barely move in them.
Me: Ma, these jeans are too damn tight.
Mom: Fine, I'll exchange them. But you should've tried them on earlier so I would have known sooner.
About a week later, my mom brought over another pair of jeans. She wouldn't leave until I tried them on, so I begrudgingly slumped to my bedroom. When I came out, I attempted to walk back to the other room, but the jeans were even tighter than the other ones.
Mom: Those look great!
Me: But I can barely walk.
Me: I'm not going to wear something that completely limits me from walking.
Mom: Fine. I'll exchange them again. Next time I'll get loose fit.
Me: Why didn't you just get loose fit in the first place?
Mom: Well, I went up a size but got tight fit. I thought that would be good.
And so I received my third pair of jeans a week later. My mom made the mistake of giving them to me at her house again, so it took me nearly another week to try them on. I finally did, and they were easily the best fit of the three. However, it was still difficult to bend my legs because they were very tight around my knees, restricing my movement on staircases. Plus, I couldn't say they were completely comfortable otherwise because jeans just aren't comfortable to begin with.
My mom called me that night...
Mom: Did you try those jeans yet?
Mom: Really!? Wow! How are they?
Me: Meh, I dunno. They're tight around my knees.
Mom: Oh, that's OK!
Me: Well, I can't really walk up and down staircases. I hate jeans.
Mom: I'm sure you're exaggerating.
Me: No! I'm not! I hate jeans! In fact, I don't think I want to wear jeans ever again!
Mom: What? Do you want khaki pants instead?
Me: No, I don't like them either.
Mom: Well what are you going to wear when you go out?
I had no answer. Sweatpants? Meh. I might look like a slob, but I may just have to do it because of my complete disdain for jeans.
Words can't describe how much I hate jeans. They're usually too tight. They're too rough. They don't feel comfortable. They're restrictive. Their pockets are too small and in awkward spots. And do they even look good? I get the feeling that in 100 years, people will look back at pictures of individuals from the early 2000s and laugh, "Wow, look how silly they are! I can't believe people wore denim a hundred years ago! Bwahahahaha!"
Unfortunately, there are no other sociably acceptable options. Let's take a look at my choices:
1. Khaki Pants - I'm just not a fan. If they get wet or sweaty, they really smell. Plus, people don't really wear them anymore.
2. Khaki Shorts - Always a favorite of mine, but I live in Philadelphia, where it's too cold to don them between November and March. Perhaps increasing the rate of global warming should be the 11th awesome law that should be created. I don't know why more people aren't for global warming. It means warmer weather, idiots. You want to live in the cold? Move to Antarctica.
3. Suit Pants - Would look weird with t-shirts.
4. Sweatpants - The leading candidate for my new attire. If that means being a slob, then so be it. At least I'll be able to walk up and down the stairs.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Clothes Shopping
OK, I know I just said that I never go clothes shopping, but I went to a Modell's recently to buy swim trunks. My old swim trunks took at least 10 attempts to tie because they had gotten so loose. I was finally fed up with stopping every four laps to tighten them, so I finally succumbed to the miserable act of clothes shopping. I had vomit in my mouth as I entered the Modell's at Neshaminy Mall, but I decided to gut it out.
As you might guess, I had no idea what I was doing. I saw a bunch of shirts and shorts, but where were the swim trunks? I wandered around the store aimlessly for about 10 minutes when I finally gave up an asked an employee where the swim trunks were.
There were two racks of swim trunks, all of which were 50-percent off, probably because it was no longer summer. I was happy for a second until I realized that there were cryptic letters on each tag. The letters were S, M, L and XL. I assumed they meant small, medium, large and extra large, but I had to measure them to be completely sure. I mean, what if this particular clothing company decided that S would mean "super" and M would mean "mini" and L would mean "little but not as little as mini" and XL would mean "extra little but still not as little as mini?" I don't think anyone can assume anything, so I compared all four sizes to each other to confirm what I originally thought. And I was right - this time. < br>
Still, the question remained: What size am I? I would have gone to the dressing room, but I wasn't sure if I could try on swim trunks without buying them. I mean, if I did, my wang would touch the mesh, so if I decided I didn't want it, that would mean that some other dude's wang would touch where my wang was, which is almost the same as gay sex. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
There was only one option - I had to call my mom...
Me: Hi, mom. What size am I?
Me: Like if I wanted to buy swim trunks or gym shorts - what size would I buy?
Mom: You're buying clothes!? Wow! What happened?
Me: I need new swim trunks. What size do I buy?
Mom: Well, I usually buy you medium.
Me: Oh, OK. But aren't there any numbers I have to look out for like 30, 60 or 90?
Mom: Those are for pants sizes.
See, this is the problem with clothes shopping. There are too many damn systems to know. What the hell's the difference between large swim trunks and the corresponding number for pants (50?) Why can't they just have the same system? Both things go around your waist, so shouldn't it all be the same? I'm telling you, it's a huge conspiracy, and you're all suckers for buying too many clothes.
I settled for these size-large, blue swim trunks. I also bought two pairs of And1 gym shorts because I was tired of doing the laundry so frequently (more on this later). I then went to the gym right away and tried on my new trunks. They fit perfectly. Now, I know for sure - I'm an M, unless it happens to mean "mini."
I walked out onto the pool deck. This lady in her 50s who swims there every Monday, Wednesday and Friday immediately noticed my new attire.
Lady in Her 50s: New swim trunks? Or old ones you just found?
Me: New ones! And I just bought them all by myself!
Lady in Her 50s: By yourself? What, other people buy clothes for you?
Me: Of course. The letter and numbering system for clothes is too confusing for me to handle. Plus, I'm not going to fall for the clothing company's conspiracy!
The woman looked at me like I was insane, but I was content knowing that I was the one who was smart enough not to buy my own clothes. When the clothing conspiracy finally comes to light, remember who told you about it first.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: And1 Shorts
Remember those And1 shorts I bought? Well, one pair was navy blue, while the other was gray with some red lining. I tried them on a few days later. The navy blue ones were comfortable, while the gray ones were just OK. But there was something off about the gray ones, and I didn't realize it until I actually sat down in them.
The gray And1 shorts were swim trunks! At least they felt like they were. They had the same texture as the blue swim trunks I purchased. I also realized that the rack of And1 shorts was right next to the swim trunks, so these both could have been And1 swim trunks. The navy blue ones didn't feel like swim trunks, but the gray ones did - only they didn't have that mesh that swim trunks have - at least not in the normal areas. I noticed there was some mesh between the interior and the exterior of the shorts.
I panicked. Did I just fall for the clothing company's conspiracy? I Googled "And1 swim trunks," but found nothing. I then tried "Gray And1 shorts" to see if I could find a match online. I even perused And1's Web site, but couldn't locate anything like the ones I purchased at Modell's.
It then occurred to me that looking at the tags could provide some sort of clue. The blue ones said:
M/M 100% Polyester Made in China
The gray ones, meanwhile, said:
M/M 95% Polyester 5% Spandex Made in China
And what about the swim trunks?
M/M 100% Polyester Made in Vietnam
I have so many questions:
1. What's with the two M's? Are they accounting for both "medium" and "mini?" Or is the second M a roman numeral? Like, is this medium, 1,000? I thought pants sizes were in the double digits, but I'll admit that I'm not really sure about that.
2. What the hell is polyester? Sounds like a holiday.
3. Why is everything made in an Asian country? No wonder America's economy is in the tank. Asian countries have kids who make this stuff for like five cents an hour. I say we should have our kids do the same thing, perhaps giving them six cents an hour so that would make us look better than both the Chinese and Vietnamese governments. On top of that, we'd outfox them and grow our economy exponentially. I really see no downside to this.
4. I've heard of spandex, but why are my gray shorts/swim trunks 5-percent spandex? Is that good or bad?
5. Why are my navy-blue shorts the same fabric as the swim trunks? Are they swim trunks too? What about my gray shorts? Are they not swim trunks because they have 5-percent spandex?
6. What is up with these washing instructions? For example, the gray shorts say: "Machine wash cold. With like colors. Remove immediately. Do not bleach. Tumble dry low. Cool iron as needed. Do not iron decoration."
Umm... what? I don't understand a single instruction on there with the exception of "with like colors." I just started doing laundry myself recently, and my mom made sure to tell me that I could only do the whites by themselves, the darks by themselves and the reds by themselves.
This seems logical, but what if you have a black-and-white shirt? Where does that go? Even worse, what if your shirt is black, white and red? That's the ultimate quandary. You can't put it in with anything else, and you can't even wash it by itself because the black and red from the shirt will get on the white part of it, and then it'll be completely ruined. That means your black-white-and-red shirt can never be washed. Yes, there's Febreze, but will that take care of a ketchup, mustard or chocolate stain? I think not. If you get one, you're f***ed.
Other things I don't get:
Wash cold - Why cold? Everyone knows that hot water is better than cold water. This is obviously part of the clothing conspiracy.
Do not bleach - Wait, washing and bleaching aren't synonyms? I thought they were. If not, how do you bleach something? And what is bleach? This is way over my head.
Tumble dry low - I don't know what this means. Tumble what? Dry low? There's a dry high option? Don't you want things to be dry? If so, why dry low? Seems counterintuitive.
Cool iron as needed - Who irons anymore? That's what people in the 50s and 60s used to do. Now that they've invented dryers, ironing has become a thing of the past. Maybe that's not the case in China or Vietnam, but I challenge you to find three people who still iron stuff in America.
It's been a month since I bought these And1 clothing items, and I still don't know if they're gym shorts or swim trunks. What I do know is that I prefer wearing both over any sort of jeans - even if I'm not sure what the hell they are.