Cleverly Disguised as a Douche-bag and his Trampy Wife
This past Saturday evening my wife an I participated in a charity event known as a “Road Rally”.
in actuality it was like a scavenger hunt with Riddler style clues and puzzles. Each team was given a bag of clues, riddles and questions which required you to drive all around northern Macomb and Oakland counties visiting various business establishments and communicating with humans. It was quite fun, and our team of four came in fifth. (I must admit that for some of the more difficult 1980′s trivia riddles I enlisted the aid of DaveCat, ZipGun, and goshou through the technology of cellular telephone talkery)
Good, clean fun, right? The catch was that throughout the ordeal we would be expected to wear the fashions of the 1980s, hideous as they may now seem to we modern humans.
I turned 18 in 1990 and therefore possessed an adult-sized body for about three years of that decade, during which time I accumulated but a meager collection of clothing that matched the styles of the time.
Alas, my Z Cavaricci knock-offs are long gone, I never owned any Reebok Pumps and no one ever gave me a friendship bracelet. I was generally un-hip in any case; no reproducable photos reveal mullets, skinny ties or Jordache jeans on my person at any time.
Nevertheless, I searched my closet and produced the pictured assortment of mixed eighties stuff. Note the reversible belt with my initial prominant on the tiny chrome-and-gold belt buckle. Also observe the “Ducky-style,” paisley, silk shirt (bought for me by my biological father in 1989 and worn for the first time in public in THIS PHOTOGRAPH). Lastly, check out the cloth windbreaker, which was an Aeropostale knock-off (complete with biplane on the back) purchased for me by my mom when I was 13… from K-Mart, for chrissake!
The pants and shoes were purchased recently. I happen to like wearing Converse All-Stars, especially when playing DDR, though I only discovered them for the first time about a year ago. The pants were TIGHTER than any pants my fat, 36-year-old ass has any business wearing. One beneficial side effect is that it made me look really well endowed and demonstrated to the world the quality of my thighs. The overriding negative side-effect, however, is that my big ‘ol butt was… well… big and old. Since it wasn’t Jordache I had Heather write “Jordache” across my right ass-cheek. Not certain this fooled anyone, though…
The result was bizarre, out-of-style, but perhaps not immediately period evoking. Well, I tried. Heather, however, did it right.
First, let me tell you that Heather is a very self-conscious woman. She’s totally hot, in my opinion, but is constantly being camera shy and attempting to cover herself up. For instance, if she wears a mid-thigh miniskirt she is constantly tugging it down in a vain attempt to obscure her pretty legs and she’ll usually wear a t-shirt or tank-top under any shirt that might show cleavage just to frustrate inquiring eyes.
So I was quite happy with her little shorts, see-through leggings and off-the-shoulder flash dancer look. Less thrilling to me was the hair-spray and eye shadow, but I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled with my man-of-the-day moustache.
As I mentioned at the beginning, my team ended in fifth place. As for the other participants’ costumes? The gamut was run from Nike track suits with mullet-wigs to a tall blonde who actually had her long hair crimped for the occasion. Gnarly.
Sing it to the tune of “Everybody plays the fool,” and you may giggle just a little. Under your breath. Provided you are an idiot like me.
Second, both your daughters get sick on Tuesday, with the toddler being so pitiful that you can barely catch your breath from going, “Awww….” all the time. And, of course, by this time SafeT is back at work so you get to tend the flu-ridden without his assistance.
