I’m on the homestretch folks. You know how it feels when it’s been a week since you’ve hugged your kid(s)? I land at National Airport tomorrow and go straight to soccer practice and fetch LFG for the weekend. I miss her so much I can’t stand it and I’ll relish my weekend with her. She and her peers took the first round of standardized math tests today.
No Child Left Behind and the law of unintended consequences will be the topic of another post sometime soon. These teachers are caught between a rock and a hard place with regard to teaching versus “teaching to the test”. Stop me now or this is gonna turn into an elementary school parent activist post.
LFG and her mom saw Julie and Julia a while back and LFG begged to go see Julia Child’s kitchen at the Smithsonian. I was only too happy to oblige. When we returned home LFG prepared with a little help from ADG…. Coq Au Vin. Thanks to your Federal tax dollars we have the greatest museums in the world just a train ride away. Merci.
I am not exaggerating when I say that I sat from eight this morning until three this afternoon before I presented. I had to endure at least two hundred PowerPoint slides before I was on. You can only drone on for so long on Medicaid reimbursement and if job justification is indexed to the number of slides in a deck-these fruit loops I listened to today are safe for another thousand years. Ban PowerPoint-it’s one of the first things I’m gonna do as President-after we regulate the use of Spandex.
So I had plenty of time to take phone pictures of random stuff-including this bullet proof twill contrivance I’m sporting for this jaunt. Polo striped support hose link the twill trou to the Belgians. Nice carpet no?
Here’s a dreadful shot of the poacher pockets. Apple rightfully so, isn’t focused on phone camera quality in the iPhone.
Extra long barrel cuff on my horizontal striped dress shirt. I get bored with conventional contrivances so I’ve learned to even tart up my dress shirts with fuzzy dice.
Monogrammed horizontal stripe-getchaself one or two.
And if your dirty clothes pile isn't fraught with monograms-well I just don't know what's gonna become of you.
No waistband behind the side tabs. Cleaner look and again-I gotta make these rigs a little bit dodgy. Mission accomplished.
Dontcha think?
Ok…somebody’s gotta come and take the Sky Mall catalogue away from me. I could create a separate blog about this crazy stuff. This next offering that I landed on had me trippin. Here we go… “Honey, does my butt look too big in these jeans? Not big enough baby, go put your butt pads in and let’s roll.” Help me.
Oh, and I’ve cornered another separated at birth from Vanity Fair. My good buddy Elegantologist channels the great line draftsman and Punch Illustrator Phil May.
Our Man in Richmond
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The Inimitable Mr. Phil May
Ok, I’ve gotta say some prayers and hit the hay. My Johnny Guitar Watson offering has no relevance to this post-I just believe that at least one of my posits should resurrect this greatest ode to padded butts.
Onward. Tatatingly
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