Fashion Sense?

I'm sitting here typing, not in a three piece suit, a Tommy Hilfiger outfit, or even some Polo shirt with some khaki slacks. Right now I sit in front of the computer with an old plain black shit, some cammie cut off shorts and mismatching socks. My thick ass "see the future but can't get the lotto numbers" glasses keep sliding off my nose because I haven't gotten around to pick up new ones. In my home I like dressing like this. It's comfortable and I refuse to give a shit, because the bear is in his cave. If bears had less hair and a computer in their cave with a pack of Camel lights to set the mood, I think they would look a lot like me.

Last night I got dressed for the weekly ho-down (sometimes conversational throwdown if the topic is hot and the beer is still cold) which I continually look forward to. Khaki cargo pants, a plain black shit, thin black leather belt, chain wallet, and a broken in pair of Vans. I do not dress to impress. I dress for comfort. But evidentially comfort does not impress the girl.

I brought up a girl that I'm interested in at work; a cardinal sin to pursue if you are dating savvy. This was to the usual Saturday crowd that has become tradition to hang out with at the usual place with the usual beer. It is known in this circle that I am not the most socialable of people, and learned later, that I am not the most fashionable.

There is something that I must explain before I go on. The usual Saturday crowd is a good one if not great. They are family with a very strong emphasis on those values that accompany the word. But there is some sort of pressure that gets carried on with it. Most of the time, it is for the better. Through these people, they have shown me what I could be doing with my life and made it known that there is much more if I just get up off my ass every now and then.

Now I left the bullet necklace and spiked bracelet at home on this night. It was a good thing, as all it would do would fan the flames of demonstrating the look of a fashionless guy. Come on people.....I did away with the blue hair. That evening evolved to singing some pretty girls praises at work to dressing to impress. I couldn't help but feel I suddenly come from a world of shooting the shit and talking about what's been going on with everyone's week, to sitting in a small room with the fab four showering me with ideas to be fashion chic.

"So what colors do you like other than black?"
"You got to do away with the bullet necklace."
"Hey man, I'll take you shopping and hook you up bro'. Your birthday is coming up."
"No really, what colors do you like other than black. I know khaki but....."
"There are these really nice slack that I saw......."

Holy shit! I was trapped. I was looking for exits to my left and right but they were blocked off. You couldn't change this conversation if a UFO landed in the backyard, the hatch opening revealing dancing bear juggling chainsaws, and monkeys popping out of the bushes throwing shit everywhere. I was getting schooled, and looking at myself objectively, schooling might have been needed.

Tell you guys what...........

I'll meet you half way. I'll only wear the Dead Kennedy's shirt at home, no more bullet necklace, and maybe I'll try a Polo shirt every now and then..............

......but not black. I can't give up black. By the ease of black matching everything and the power of Johnny Cash I can't give it up just yet.