So here's the thing about suits...

So i'm graduating in a little over a month, and i'm going to need a suit for the big day and i'll prolly be interviewing for jobs after that. I don't have a suit, i don't think i ever have, and certainly not one i've ever actually wanted to wear. So I get a book, The Details Style Manual, and start reading up. I'm not huge into clothes, i couldn't tell you designers, or even whats "in" right now, but i like to look presentable, and i like to look well put together. So i'm dead set on finding a something classic, something that looks nice, something that looks a little tailored. According to Details, a bad suit is as easy to pick out in a crowd as a bad toupee, and i damn sure i don't wanna be that guy.

So i go in there knowing what i'm going to pick up. I skinny gray suit, 2 shirts (one with pencil strips, one pale blue) and a tie (blue and silver striped) I'm all excited, and a little nervous. Excited cause i'm going to look good, nervous cause it's a new situation and i have to talk to some guy i've never met and rely on him to help me out and make me look good. (i get nervous around barbers for the same reasons, I just think getting a haircut is an awkward social situation)


What do i end up walking out with? A Pick up slip (so that i can pick up my gray suit thats getting tailored (it has pin stripes, small understated ones cause i don't like to be flashy), a red shirt and a gray and black and red tie, a black shirt with a small patterned white tie, and a pale gray shirt with a black tie with small blue stripes, a dark navy blazer, and a pair of even newer dress shoes.

I wanted to spend about 400-450 bucks, and i end up spending considerably more, how does this happen you might ask? well in short, i fold like origami. I have no backbone and i can't stand up to the sales guy at Men's Wearhouse. "what shoes are you wearing with your suit? those ones you bought last night? i don't think so! those are way too casual for a suit" "how about a sport coat, it'll knock 50 bucks off of your suit price, and tack on 70 more to your overall total" "Which of these shirts and ties combinations do you like, I'm not going to show you a price tag on anything and let it be a surprise when you get to the register." damn him for making me look so good, and damn me for not have the chutzpah to say "how much" or even "no thank you."

Whatever, i now know that i can go to mytailor.com and get my shirts and suits custom made to fit me, and not have to talk to anyone for only a few bucks more. Well worth the extra few bucks, no pressure sales and better fitting clothes. Hooray internet!

Why do they make shoes so confusing?

So I needed a new pair of kicks. My plans for tomorrow consist of me going out with my buddy Kate-o to buy me a suit (we'll see how that adventure goes in a later post). So Mom informs me that if i'm trying on a new suit i need to get a pair of nice looking shoes to go with it, and wear them when trying on the suits so i know how far down the pant legs need to go. It makes sense to me, so i walk over to the nearest shopping center and go into Famous Footwear to find a nice pair of shoes, the 3rd pair i try on fit really well, so i send a pic to mom to see if they meet her approval (cause if mom isn't happy then nobody's happy).

While i'm wandering around the shoe store, waiting for Ma to text me back, i wander over to the chucks and start perusing the styles. i found a pair of high-tops with a Sailor Jerry pin up on the side, which i thought was smoking hot, but they didn''t have any in my size. Next up was a pair of black and grey double Chucks. They looked sweet. They were kinda like two pairs of Chucks sewn together, a grey pair sewn over top of a classic black pair. When i tried them on, only the inside set of eyelets were laced up, it was enough to to tell that they fit me well, and a saw that there was a set of black laces to do the outside set of eyelets with, so i stick 'em on top the other shoes and charge them to Mom's credit card (i figured if it was her idea to buy shoes, she should also pay for them too, you know so she can have the whole experience.)

I get my shoes home, take a shower, and head in to work where i pull out the black laces and try to start lacing.

All of a sudden, my plans come to a screeching halt. How the Hell do you lace these things? I got 14 eyelets and 2 laces for each shoe. It's not like shoes come with an instruction manual. so i go to the next best thing. The internet. Would you beleive that every picture of my shoes on the net are unlaced? Thats completely useless. So i start fidgeting around with the laces.

An Hour and a half later, i finally got both shoes laced up to my satisfaction, and looking pretty fly (at least for a white guy). Damn, it took for freakin' ever. Was it worth it? you betcha. But why on earth couldn't they have made it easier, or had instructions or something? ionno, whatever. I still can't believe it took an hour and a half....

crisis

I got a new coat a couple of weeks ago. It's pretty sweet. It's a black peacoat. It's a wool cashmere blend so it's nice and soft, it's got a layer of thinsulate stuff to make it warm, and it makes me feel sexy (which is VERY important). I was only mildly annoyed when i found out that 1/5 of the student population here own a black double breasted peacoat. After all, it was very difficult to find a coat that i liked 2 weeks into the new year. (Is it me or is it weird to see swimsuits and overcoats in the store at the same time?) My coat was in the last store i looked in, a Von Maur, which is a creepy, rich grandpa kinda of store. the store smells like a funeral home. So anyways, if i were to sum up, it was hard work finding a coat i liked, but man do i really like it.

So i've been wearing a black peacoat everywhere i go. In order to do this, i feel a need to wear black shoes. you gotta match right? so my wardrobe choices have been dictated by my black pumas for about 2 1/2 weeks now. so what does this mean? if you saw my wardrobe you'd prolly know. It means i've been wearing nothing but black, grey, and white for two plus weeks. I've been a penguin! Completely monochromatic. My wardrobe consists of black white tan, grey and brown. Why? you might ask? cause i don't like to stand out in a crowd. It's a pretty easy to be invisible in the midst of 50,000 OSU students. neutral colors help you blend in, so i don't own a lot of colors in my wardrobe.

so it's friday night and i'm out with my friends, i'm wearing a pale grey button down shirt with a white collar on it, grey levi 559s, black shoes, black belt, and black socks with little skulls and crossbones on them. OH SHIT! It finally hits me, i've been dressing like a goth for 2+ weeks. I start panicking. AWWWWWW JEEEZ! AWWWWWWWW CRAP! AWWWWWWWW GOLLY!!!!

i need color like a gay fashion designer. (yes i watch project runway, no i don't care if it puts my masculinity into question) So yesterday i make a trip out to Old Navy looking for color. What do i buy, a White button down shirt (hey at least it's bright) and a pale grey t-shirt, and a pale blue t-shirt. Not bright color, but the pale blue at least isn't mono chromatic. ionno, i can't seem to get past my preference for non-color. but after switching things up and wearing some browns and tans and crazy socks, i feel better about myself.

One crisis averted. the rest of my life, all filled with crisis, to go. oh well, thank god for small victories.

(and in case you're wondering why i posted a new post on my obsolete blog? well i was reading my old posts and i realized that i kinda liked my posts. it kinda made me want to start keeping tabs on me again cause it least i'll entertain myself.)

Facial Hair February

So the guys at the front desk tell me it’s Facial Hair February. And what, pray tell, is this ‘facial hair February’? Well, they says, all the guys at the front desk are going to grow out beards. Oh. Well let’s give it try. We put up a sign saying Facial Hair Feb. brought to you buy the men of the Drackett Tower front desk. And we start growing our beards.

SHHHHHHHHH!!! Do you hear that!?! Listen real hard. That is the sound of my beard growing.

Now I’m getting kinda excited about this. I’m going to be rugged. Clint Eastwood is rugged, Bruce Willis is rugged. I’m going to be a real man’s man. So I go four days without shaving. I had some mixed reviews, some told me I was looking good, others told me it just kinda looked dirty. My faithful sidekick (read: roommate) told me to hang in there, once it gets a little longer I’ll like it better. So I hang in there. Then a few days ago I wake up at 1:30 in the morning and touched my face.

Nope that’s the end of that game. I immediately get up and go shave. Screw that. So I kinda sheepishly go down to work later that night, knowing I’m going to have to come up with a good reason for my silky smooth face. So I tell the guys:

“It’s not the size of the beard on the outside; it’s the size of the beard on the inside that counts.”

The End

Work sucks...

Tuesdays are the worst days of the week for me. I have to get up early, (8:15) so I can get a bowl cereal in before i go to work. Today's bowl was Apple jacks. Then i go to work for four hours. I know you can't really call it work, today i studied for a midterm while listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. When i get off of work at 1, I head off to my first class at 1:30. I am in class from 1:30-3:18, and then from 3:30-5:18. So you add it up, my day is 9-5:30. That's 8 hours, plus a half hour for lunch. (except my half hour is taken up by walking to class) I dread this day, above all other days in the week. Tuesday is the worst. And there are people out there who do this five days a week. How do these people do it? All i can say is that working...having a full time J-O-B... It's not for me. Maybe i can skip it and go straight to retirement. That would be nice...

Here's to those unfortunate souls that have to put in 40 hours a week. I be sure to catch a few extra hours of sleep just for you.

Movie time...

Let me tell you all about a little movie called Pan’s Labyrinth. It was made in spain, so it’s all in Spanish speak. But don’t hold that against it. The film is amazing. It is wonderfully shot and acted, and the special effects were pretty cool too.

The movie is about a little girl who, in the midst of the 1940 Spanish civil war, leaves the city and travels with her pregnant mother to an old mill in the middle of nowhere, so they can live with some mean tyrannical captain who is trying to put down a rogue group of rebels. With all this going on around her, the girl still finds time to visit this creepy/beautiful world of magic and danger, inhabited by fairies and fauns.

The movie is crazy good. I give it 8-1/2 out of 11. Go see it.

So here’s what I’m thinkin’…

Have you ever heard of an art therapist? Or a music therapist? I’m thinking maybe that might be what I want to do when I graduate. I know. It sounds like I hippie job to me too, but hear me out.

I really like my psych classes that I’m taking especially the ones for clinical and counseling psych. Those are the most interesting ones. You get to look at all the weird sick-os in the world, and then you try to help them. Challenging, fun, and interesting. Then you get to teach them how to paint, or find out which kinds of music they should listen to, or show them fun uplifting movies.

And I get to take fun classes. Like painting 101, or learn to draw, and then art education. Or basic music theory (aka help with my guitar). How cool is that? I mean, the things I do for fun, I get to take classes for. Honestly. It’d almost be like not going to school. I’d get a degree for finger-painting.

Then I’d get a job in a field that is growing at a “faster then average rate,” whatever that means. And I get to work for fun places. Like get a nice cushy job working for a government funded hospital, or at a hospice or a nursing home (maybe not there, old people creep me out.) or a prison. I’ve seen enough prison movies to know that prison folk are good natured, honest people, who just need a little more direction in their lives. I’d be the guy showing them how to paint those pictures of flying birds and stuff. Like that old man from “Escape from Alcatraz.” You know the one who cut off his fingers in the workshop? I’d be hanging out with people like him.