Call me DipShit

Today was dress like a dipshit day. For those of you who are trapped in deep denial that this exists, this rather unceremonious day occurs about 2 or 3 times a year when you a) have not washed clothes in about 2-3 weeks or b) washed everything you own and cannot remember what your outfit order is. Choice B was circled today and DLAD-day occurred for me today.

I would rather be the President and have to make the choice whether to flip the switch to start nuclear war than to have the option to dress like a fool…or dress like a fool!

I’ve got some good backups, but nothing you would ever wear voluntarily. I had to make the decision, do I take the risk and humiliation involved with a possible re-wear of an outfit I had donned mere days ago or do I call in a reserve. I mean, I’m sure I could convince everyone that I was reversing my cycle, but that’s a lot of work and a lot of storytelling to keep track of.

Now, I have taken the risk before and have come out successful many times but today I couldn’t bring myself to make the attempt. I mean, let’s be honest, I have a family to think about and my street cred is running pretty low lately.

After three minutes of deliberation, the jury returned and I emerged from the closet looking like this:


Now I know what you’re thinking… “wow, what an a-hole!” But the shirt was from So Cal and the pants were from The Crap, so technically it could be so cool and you don’t even know it yet. Chances are I looked like a dipshit though. Here’s to remembering what you wore a week ago!