Send This Boy To Camp (The Sequel)

Astonishingly, I came about as close to an almost-not-unpleasant afternoon as I'm likely to ever know.

I found sufficient merch at Westgate Target (and have issued a semisoft, marginally sincere retraction of the remarks I made yesterday on Facebook). I'm only too grateful that I didn't have to go to Kohls or to the dreaded Marshall's, which always looks like a crime scene and has been, to date, useless.

I don't care how anyone testifies: Target's sizes run small. I was shopping the size I know I wear in britches, and in shirts I've always been an XL with room to spare---even when I was heavier than I am now. (In the interest of full disclosure, there was a time when I wore the hell out of Mediums and Larges.) Nothing fit. The shirts were XLs for guys who want to wear XL but really don't need to. When I snarked to the fitting-room clerk that whoever calibrates sizes at the factory should recheck their specs, she stated that I was trying on clothes from the "young men's" collection. What the fuck? Nice try at solace, $6.09 an hour.

The joke's on her: I wouldn't have been able to wear those shirts in those sizes 30 years ago. I always said that when I hit middle age, it would be an easy skid because all I needed was for my chronology to catch up with my body type.

Anyway, I didn't get the dashing sport jackets and slacks I pictured myself wearing as I make my dynamic-but-somehow-mysterious entrance to certain upcoming (upchucking?) events, but I walked away with a couple pair of respectable-but-sassy pants and some slouchy, tailored-for-nontucking shirts---just right for shmoozing the artsy-smartsy set and whipping out business cards (or whatnot) in high style. Fabulous!

Either way it's all in the accessories,

Mikey

Find me on Facebook & LinkedIn @ "msrg-publications"!

Send This Boy To Camp

I have all these so-called "networking" events coming up because I took advantage of COSE's free seven-week membership. I'm attending in spite of myself. (Thanks again, COSE.)

So, I'm shopping today for networkingwear. I rather wouldn't attend these events in cargo pants that disintegrate a little more every time I lift my foot to take a step, and an untucked shirt that has a small but conspicuous hole courtesy of those little fruitfly-gnat bastards that squeeze in through the windowscreen all summer.

I wanted to look a little fabulous, considering I'm going to be riding on or waiting for buses all the livelong day (at this point, I'll be lucky to get home while it's still today), and I'll be distilling all the dozens of people I come into contact with down to one opportunity to meet someone if I'm exceptionally lucky.

Fail.

I hate every thread of every shirt, trouser, sock, and undergarment I own. There aren't two things that go together and none of it looks good on me---and it's not my fault; they started it. At one point, I actually had a standoff with my closet. Literally.

So, as usual, I'm submitting to the armpit of transportation (RTA) looking like a "Before" picture for some product that means to make your life less horrible.

Win a date with Ethel Mertz's male counterpart.

Stay tuned,

Mikey

Find me on Facebook & LinkedIn

Taught! (*sigh*)

I thought I might apply for a grant from Civic Innovation Lab on short notice. I might, in fact, not. My lame-o attempts at "networking" and "generating buzz" stop here. From here on in, it's nothing but a prototype issue of Atrocity Parade and a business plan. Don't cry for me, Facebook...

Stay tuned,

Mikey