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Friday, June 20, 2008

Business Pajamas.

In preparation for the weekend, my husband dresses more and more like a slob. Today, he's sporting the ultimate in sloppy business attire, what I like to call "Business Pajamas," otherwise known as the Seersucker Suit. He used to rock it with an edge. He'd wear black Doc Marten's and a fairly severe tie. It looked cool, for pajamas. Those days are over. Today he rocked every Southern gentleman's favorite summer suit with a pink shirt, a monkey tie and...shudder...white bucks. I really was okay until I saw the white bucks. Why? Why? This is not the man I married. Also, his previous, hipper Business Pajamas had flat-front pants. These have pleats. Ew. Marriage is hard and I'm at a loss on this one. What do I do? I think I'm going to have to let this one go, because he's digging his white buck-clad heels in. Oh, well. I suppose I should just be happy it wasn't a bow tie.

He met us for lunch at the Happy Café, which is when I was inspired to send this text via Twitter:

My husband is rockin' his business pajamas with a monkey tie. Stand back, ladies. He's all mine!

I was being sarcastic. Did you get it? Did you? You probably did. He, however, is blind to any criticism of his new look. His response?

Too late. My seersucker a** is burning for all the ladies checking it out.

I sincerely hope he was being sarcastic, because if he thinks that is true, I feel sad for him. If you see him, tell him he looks hot. Try not to use the same voice you use when you pretend to believe a three year old in a Super Man costume is the real Super Man.

In other news, terrible mother that I am, I made the X-Man stand in the grass for the Grass Cam to demonstrate...I don't know what. But his feet are cute and the grass is still lovely. And never fear, the woodpecker can be heard. Wheee!



Namasté, y'all!




2 comments:

ya said...

Cute li'l feet. And then, "Done." X-man rocks.

Susanna said...

It was blue seersucker, right? Because I have seen menswear in green, yellow, and even pink seersucker. One could be a walking, talking, one-man barbershop quartet, if one so chose.