Dude looks like a lady....

Humpday a week a ago, I had to see a guy about a thing. This required that I look as presentable as I can look. That meant I needed to take clothes to the cleaners. Work and life conspired against me doing this myself, so my Lovely Bride stood up and took one for the home team x2. She dropped off the cleaning and picked it up on Tuesday. I played work golf on Tuesday, and arrived home, late and tired.

Cock-a-doodle-doo. Next morning I had a heck of a time getting up, running much late. As I was about to get dressed in my sartorial finest, the Elder Boy woke up and wanted for me to sit on his lap (which is his backwards way of saying he wanted to sit on my lap.) Having not seen him the night before, I quit getting dressed, and took 15 minutes to watch Higgly Town Heroes with the Boy. Now running VERY late, I went into our room to get dressed. Digging through the plastic of the cleaners, I extracted the freshly pressed black pants that I wanted to wear, as well as my shirt, did my hair, and proceeded to bust a move out of the casa. Again, I was running late. Only problem. My pants felt funny. I had once owned another pair of pants (khaki) like the black that I was wearing, those pants had got laundered vs. dry cleaned and shrunk on me. I thought maybe that was what had happened? Or, perhaps all the beer I had been drinking had added some additional girth to my middle section?

So, wanting to be a sharp dressed man, and not having much time, I did what most men, who are married do. I asked my Lovely Bride. "Honey," I said, "Do these pants look ok? They look short to me. Feel a bit tight." My Lovely Bride stood back, and gave me the once over, and pronounced, " You look fine." Sold!

Off to work, meetings all day, and that meeting with the guy about the thing, all added up to busy busy for this Boy named Stu. So much so that I never went to lunch and or to work-out. I just slaved away.

Home. Tired. Hot. Still feeling a bit fat in my fancy black pants, I decided to promptly go change into something more comfortable. As I peeled off the pants, I decided to check the waist size to see if I was in fact, getting fat. You see, for a lot of years I wore 32x32 pants, and then I lost some weight, and started wearing 31x32. I was thinking that these might be 31x32 pants and so as I was about to fold them, I opened them up and squinted to see (I wasn't wearing my glasses) what size they were.

10R is what it looked like. Wait. 10R? 10R! What the F bomb is 10R?

Then it hit me. Hard. Trying to be dressed to impress, I had, BY MISTAKE, worn Carter's pants the entire day. At work. In meetings. Meeting that guy about a thing. I was wearing my wife's clothing. Sweet mother of goodness.

Until I BLOG again...Lord, imagine my surprise.

P.S. Sadly, this wasn't me only sartorial slip up of the week. On Monday, prior to the Hump Day, a very hard Monday Monday, where I again didn't leave the office all day, even for lunch. Had a few meetings, saw people, etc. But never left. Imagine my surprise when I get home, say my Hellos to the Boy(s), and My Lovely Bride, who asks, "what is on your back?"

"Excuse me?" I had no idea what she meant. Coming closer, she turns me away from her and points to an area that is in the middle of my right shoulder. "There, right there, did you do something to your back..." at which point she sticks her hand under my shirt to see what it is.

What is was was a dryer sheet. I had went through my entire day with a balled up dryer sheet under my shirt looking like a half ass Quasimodo.

I don't wanna tame your animal style..

Thus far in this here BLOG, I've steered clear of second hand stories. Mainly because I get enough good stuff, BLOG worthy stuff, firsthand. But, this story, is the definition of BLOG worthy. It was witnessed by my better half, and it happend this past Saturday.

Dig if you will a Fountain Festival by the City of Richardson. The Fountain Festival is a big event, with all sorts of fun and free things to do with your kids. Each thing or activity is hosted by a Richardson area civic group or local business. You have things like, a bubble booth, wacky putt-putt, silly obstacle course race, fountain fishing, bounce house, giant inflatable slides (one that had a water pool at the bottom,) petting zoo/booth, and the biggest and best, a giant tent with a gargantuan sand pile (more like mountain) underneath.

Upon arriving at the Festival, and finding the fishing in the fountain line to long, The Team decided to hit the petting zoo on our way to the sand pile tent. Ethan was ALL about the sand pile. Somehow Ethan snaked his way in the front of the line for the petting zoo, and was admitted prior to Wy Wy. The petting zoo was pretty lame compared to most petting zoos. It was small, so small that the largest animal was a chicken or duck. A few turtles. A cute little bunny or two. That was about it. Ethan was so unimpressed that he walked in and turned around and walked out, pleading for me to take him to the sand pile vs. waiting for Wyatt to go in for his turn. This petting zoo was hosted by a civic group that consisted of older women. They mainly were counting kids at the gate to get in (only 10 at a time) and then instructed the kids to wash their hands when the exited. My point, there wasn't a lot of adult supervision in the small zoo. Mainly small kids and toddlers (older kids such as Ethan found the zoo lame and were off to bigger things like the sand pile or big inflatable slide) and a few small animals.

The petting zoo was surrounded by parents, all armed with their trusty sure shot camera. If you stumbled upon the scene, you would think that the paparazzi had caught Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn fornicating inside the booth. That's how photo crazy we're talking. These people were rabid in their quest to capture their kids with a cute bunny or duck. The kids on the other hand, were mainly freaked out and scared. Inside this booth and away from Mom and Dad with all these strange looking animals who were oblivious to them. I'm sure having sufferered through more than one petting zoo in their day.

Picture yourself amongst all these nice Mom and Dads outside the small booth/zoo trying to take pics of their little angels when our Little Warrior enters their picture and promptly bum rushes the first chicken that crosses his path. This chicken, who I'm sure had been rushed a few times before, does that quick turbo burst of speed thing to get away from Wy Wy. Only problem is, the Little Warrior is relentless, and he keeps on keeping on, after the poor chicken who now panics, and starts darting in and out of all the kids in the booth. Squawking. Now, all the kids in the booth are freaking out as their parents and the poor civic ladies watch in horror as Wyatt runs down the chicken, grabbing it by the tail feathers and hoisting it up about waist high. The chicken loses it at this point, so bad that it starts to flap its pointless wings, stirring up all sorts of dust and feathers as it cries out trying to get away from our Baby Boy, Wy Wy.

Needless to say, Wyatt and My Lovely Bride soon joined me and E at the sand pile.

Until I BLOG again...I bet you're not so civilized.