:: No hiding ::

Every December, I make the same damn mistake.

Each year around this time, we gather everyone in the office for a large staff photo. This photo is used in the paper during the Christmas season – usually in some sort of ad, saying "Merry Christmas from the staff at...."

The trouble is, more often than not, I forget that picture day is coming, despite getting at least a couple days warning. And because I forget, it usually means I show up to work looking like a scrub – instead of a button-up shirt and nice pants, the picture is usually taken on the day I'm wearing jeans and a hoodie, or something. (The worst was last year, when I forgot – again – and wore a toque to work because of a blizzard. Had I remembered, I'd have brought some hair gel to fix my mop of hair. Instead, I had terrible "hat-head". Plus a hoodie.)

On the plus side, there's usually about 20 people in the photo so I'm able to hide behind bodies and stay out of the way. Which is my usual plan of attack when I forget to look presentable.

This year, however, not only did I forget, but I also threw out any chance of blending into the background. That's because, when I got dressed for work this morning – completely ignorant of the forthcoming photo op, remember – I chose from my closet one of my better golf shirts. Which just happens to be blindingly bright orange, with thin white stripes.

We took the picture this morning, and though I tried to hide in a middle row, and behind some people with large heads, I am still the brightest thing in the frame. By a fucking country mile.

And speaking of country miles, you can probably see me from that far away, so bright is my shirt. Or if you can't, just check the paper in a week or two.

Can't miss me.

:: Sean's reputation ::

During warm-up before our playoff game last night (It was chilly out)...

Chris: Hey, nice pants - I thought you said you didn't have sweatpants anymore.

Sean, excited: Yeah I know, but the other day I found two pairs!

(pause)

Sean: Found them at my house...

(pause...Chris skeptical look)

Sean: They were mine... I'd already purchased them... then I found them again later... God, I can't believe I had to qualify that.

:: Odd, odd couple ::

Yesterday after work, Christene and I drove to the Quizno's in Murrayville, so we could grab something to eat quickly before I had to go play softball.

As we waited at a red light at an intersection, two people crossed the street who could not have been a stranger match. Individually, they were each bizarre-looking enough to warrant a second (or third) look (or laugh), but together, well, they were a tandem on par with that time Macho Man Randy Savage teamed up with Hulk Hogan.

Now, I tried to take a picture with my cell phone, but couldn't get a clear shot - and when a clear shot did finally present itself, we were moving, so it was impossible. As a result, I will have to describe them to you, as best I can.

The man looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s. He had a very large potbelly, on which hung a very ill-fitting shirt which may or may not have had sleeves. On his head he wore a cowboy hat that appeared to be made of, if not plastic, then some other kind of shiny material (Authentic, it was not). Below the waist, he wore some cut-off jean shorts which looked to be a do-it-yourself job – the bottoms of them were quite frayed.

Oh, I forgot to mention – he was holding these designer shorts up with suspenders. Honest to God, suspenders.

And, in a move he obviously cribbed from those cute kids who wear gumboots and shorts (and sometimes capes too, just because it's awesome), this fine middle-aged gentleman was wearing big brown boots – possibly of the steel toed variety.

It was like a perfect storm of fashion mistakes – all that was missing was the aforementioned cape, or possibly some kind of scarf.

The woman he was with was not dressed quite so oddly, but she, uh, stood out in a place like Langley. She was a large black woman, wearing capri-type pants which appeared to be far too tight; she had a short, afro-like hair, and walked with a pronounced limp  – slowly, and awkwardly.

What a team they made. I expect they were just coming back from a trip to the post office, where they went to pick up their complimentary "Best of Maury Povich" DVD box set, which they received as a gift after appearing on the show. 

Either that, or they were mailing an angry letter to the creators of Cops, in which they demanded residuals be paid to them since they'd made so many appearances on the show.

Maybe they were doing both.

:: Free T-Shirt Sundays ::

Over the past couple weeks, I've come to realize that I have very few t-shirts I could wear in a social situation, or a so-called "nice t-shirt" if such a product even exists, as t-shirts are by their very nature, casual.

I really only have 3-4 that I consistently wear, but yet I still have a closet and two dresser drawers full of shirts. This is because I have an absolute crapload of free t-shirts, that aren't really suitable for anything except, say, mowing the lawn, or loafing around in while hungover on a Saturday morning/afternoon.

And lately, in an effort to preserve my 3-4 good shirts for Friday and Saturday nights and/or weekdays, I have taken to wearing these grungy-looking free shirts every Sunday, because at the very most, the only place I go on Sunday is the grocery store or my parents house.

I don't care that it makes me look like a poor, or just a general schlub. They're comfortable and I likes 'em. Also, I have a general affinity for things that are free, or at least cheap.

Sure, I could go purchase some other new, better shirts - I am usually able to afford such luxuries as clothes - but for now I'm content to plug along every Sunday wearing the freebies. And because I've started wearing these shirts every Sunday, I've sort of began taking an inventory of my collection. As far as I can tell, I own 14 free shirts.

Two were promoting a high school basketball tournament, another one was from a basketball camp, two more were promos from triathlons I covered, and I have three from a bike race in which my company was the title sponsor. I also have a couple from a case of beer, one from slo-pitch, one I won at a pub, one that Gorski won at the pub but then foolishly left in my car (sorry, pal, whatever I finds, I keeps), and then, my personal favourite, which I really can't wear anywhere, even to the mailbox.

It's a shirt Bucholtz had made and gave to me prior to our last trip to Merritt MusicFest about three years ago. He made himself one too. It's a simple white T-shirt emblazoned with what was our motto for the week. On the front it says "Drink Everything" and on the back reads "Fuck Anything."

Yeah, we're classy like that.