Thursday, April 24, 2008

This is your sock. This is your sock on drugs. Any questions?

The things that inspire me to come out of my blogging doldrums.

So I'm folding laundry this morning in utter exhaustion having come off a whirlwind business trip when I smacked in the face with a Crime of Fashion, courtesy of C. I have avoided addressing these Crimes of Fashion out of respect for my husband's privacy and somewhat dubious choices of attire. Until now. The gloves are off and I'm comin' out swingin'!

At first I'm disbelieving, not sure that this is in fact what I'm actually seeing. But this is C, he of the Amazing Three-Button Nineties Suit, and I realize that something has gone terribly awry if I let this one get by me. I present to you Exhibit A of what is now becoming a long laundry list of questionable items of clothing populating C's closet:

For starters, something is not quite right when the insignia on any sock deviates from the innocuous logo or symbol variety. But when I start seeing construction symbols on a sock, no matter how sleep-deprived I am, that's a flag-waving, siren-blaring Red Alert to me! It's a construction symbol for "this is so not okay!" However, further inspection of said sock has me disturbed, perturbed, and aaaaaallllll of the above.

That's right, ladies and gents, there lies a construction symbol of a man lifting a beer with the inscription "Men at work!"

What? How? And more importantly, why?!?!?!??! It is clear to me that I have slackened in my fashion-enforcing, clothes-monitoring wifely duties if my husband was able to slip this by me. Obviously, C's judgment has been impaired during the purchase process of this particular item, as he obviously did not see the "DO NOT BUY IF YOU'RE OVER 21 AND YOUR BEER PONG DAYS ARE A THING OF THE PAST" warning sign flashing above it. I have an inkling that a recent visit to England and the encouragement of a particular best friend may have something to do with this.

You may be thinking "It's a sock. So what? Nobody will know it's there". But you're wrong - I know it's there. And there ain't no shame in saying I am that particular. So if it means having to do a trade-off with him and throwing out a pair of my Granny Underwear that he hates so much, I am quite ready to do it.


Blogger jsa said...

My husband had a white belt when I met him. No. Not in 1983. In 1993. After much debate among my friends about the weight of this atrocity vs. the cuteness of the person involved, we decided to simply rid him of the beast. I let them do it--basically, tell him they thought it was heinous and that they refused to be seen with him in it. He threw it over a fence at a bar and we never saw it again...but just knowing he HAD that thing has mde me eagle-eye his every purchase for the past 15 years.

9:39 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home