Why I Hate Navy Blue Slacks.
Over the years I'd have to say that I've undergone many a changes, mostly physical and mostly bad. Upon moving to the South it's fair to say that I acclimated to the easy going, slow paced life that many people find stereotypical. The easiest and best way to sum it up is, "I got fat and lazy"
As soon as I started school here in good ol' Jacksonville I found myself in a private school; which wasn't unusual as my parents were firm believers that public schools just weren't as good, even in MA where I'm originally from, (and that's their whole business up North), but also in a uniform and that was new. AND NOT VERY WELL ACCEPTED! (Anybody who knows me knows that I hate being told to do something. I'd rather just do my work, go with the flow and not really be noticed or bothered by anyone.)
Well, that just wasn't a good start in a new home, new neighborhood, new school or new life.
A little background:
My mother, my sister and I drove from MA to Jax.
It took far too long, especially in a car that didn't have any AC. (Screw your hot southern days. I'm a fucking Yankee.)
We lived in a cramped, no bedroom apartment for a week until the house closing was completed. I guess this is partly why I still like to sleep on the couch.
We arrived the day before my first day of school.(Thanks for stealing my summer, you douche bags.)
Now, the first day of school I show up in my little navy blue pants and short sleeve white dress shirt and no tie. I wasn't even aware I had to have a tie. My mother was, hell she was starting as a teacher there herself. Apparently she told the principal, 'Hey, we just got in town yesterday and I didn't have time to get him a tie. He'll have one tomorrow.' The principal was cool with this. My teacher, however, was not. Nor did anyone inform her of this conversation, so my first day of school I'm called in front of the class and berated for not having a tie and made to stand in the corner. I really hated that lady. Anyway, not the point of this story.
Over the years I became less and less of an active person. In the North I would spend hours outside playing and running and generally being a totally different person than the one many of you now know. T.v., books, movies, ideas and random objects became all the things that I needed to have fun with, oh and lots and lots of ice cream, chips and assorted greasy, fatty foods. So by the time I was in sixth grade I had totally converted to a lazy, fat nerd who looked like a miniature Jake Blues who happened to be color blind. Now, keep in mind that I only looked like a generic knock-off of this icon and if I ever tried to infringe on his trademarked split my pants would, but I wouldn't. I didn't even have to try the stunt, my pants would simply tear of their own accord leaving me to the humiliation only junior high students can deliver.
Apart from the rampant growth of my stomach I was coming upon those awkward years we all know and cringe from their mention: puberty. I was having so many growth spurts my parents could barely keep up with the purchasing of new clothes as I would outgrow them a week later. That and I was fat. Like really fat.
High school was no different. Same crappy uniform; though if I wanted I could choose a burgundy tie instead of navy, but then that's just all sorts of fucked up color coordination now isn't it, and a whole different set of problems. Now, along with the random splitting of seams I had the added problem of writing. For some reason the tedium of high school life warranted my writing all over my pants when bored in class. Thankfully, I slept a lot so the few times that I was awake to do this were few and far between, but I still managed to do it.
Needless to say I try not to wear any Navy blue pants, yet I still find that I own a pair and whenever I do put them on, (usually for work where I don't care what happens to my clothes), I feel awkward and little. As if I'm going to round a corner, have a seam rip open and have all my managers turn and laugh cause, 'hey, Joe just made an ass out of himself.' I can make an ass out of myself without shredding my clothes thank you.
As soon as I started school here in good ol' Jacksonville I found myself in a private school; which wasn't unusual as my parents were firm believers that public schools just weren't as good, even in MA where I'm originally from, (and that's their whole business up North), but also in a uniform and that was new. AND NOT VERY WELL ACCEPTED! (Anybody who knows me knows that I hate being told to do something. I'd rather just do my work, go with the flow and not really be noticed or bothered by anyone.)
Well, that just wasn't a good start in a new home, new neighborhood, new school or new life.
A little background:
My mother, my sister and I drove from MA to Jax.
It took far too long, especially in a car that didn't have any AC. (Screw your hot southern days. I'm a fucking Yankee.)
We lived in a cramped, no bedroom apartment for a week until the house closing was completed. I guess this is partly why I still like to sleep on the couch.
We arrived the day before my first day of school.(Thanks for stealing my summer, you douche bags.)
Now, the first day of school I show up in my little navy blue pants and short sleeve white dress shirt and no tie. I wasn't even aware I had to have a tie. My mother was, hell she was starting as a teacher there herself. Apparently she told the principal, 'Hey, we just got in town yesterday and I didn't have time to get him a tie. He'll have one tomorrow.' The principal was cool with this. My teacher, however, was not. Nor did anyone inform her of this conversation, so my first day of school I'm called in front of the class and berated for not having a tie and made to stand in the corner. I really hated that lady. Anyway, not the point of this story.
Over the years I became less and less of an active person. In the North I would spend hours outside playing and running and generally being a totally different person than the one many of you now know. T.v., books, movies, ideas and random objects became all the things that I needed to have fun with, oh and lots and lots of ice cream, chips and assorted greasy, fatty foods. So by the time I was in sixth grade I had totally converted to a lazy, fat nerd who looked like a miniature Jake Blues who happened to be color blind. Now, keep in mind that I only looked like a generic knock-off of this icon and if I ever tried to infringe on his trademarked split my pants would, but I wouldn't. I didn't even have to try the stunt, my pants would simply tear of their own accord leaving me to the humiliation only junior high students can deliver.
Apart from the rampant growth of my stomach I was coming upon those awkward years we all know and cringe from their mention: puberty. I was having so many growth spurts my parents could barely keep up with the purchasing of new clothes as I would outgrow them a week later. That and I was fat. Like really fat.
High school was no different. Same crappy uniform; though if I wanted I could choose a burgundy tie instead of navy, but then that's just all sorts of fucked up color coordination now isn't it, and a whole different set of problems. Now, along with the random splitting of seams I had the added problem of writing. For some reason the tedium of high school life warranted my writing all over my pants when bored in class. Thankfully, I slept a lot so the few times that I was awake to do this were few and far between, but I still managed to do it.
Needless to say I try not to wear any Navy blue pants, yet I still find that I own a pair and whenever I do put them on, (usually for work where I don't care what happens to my clothes), I feel awkward and little. As if I'm going to round a corner, have a seam rip open and have all my managers turn and laugh cause, 'hey, Joe just made an ass out of himself.' I can make an ass out of myself without shredding my clothes thank you.