What was I thinking waking up so early? I should have arranged it so that I woke up at 6:00 p.m.; maybe could have bought the dog some diapers to urinate in. But no. I just had to be a glutton for punishment. I fear this moment. Time to meet my clothing fate.
I don't think these clothes were washed first. I need to Febreze the shit out them.
It's hard to pick out a pair of shoes to match the ensemble of someone who is obviously blind and/or whacko.
10:10 a.m. - Public Outing #1
I leashed Daisy for her morning walk. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, a car backed up in the parking lot. I leapt behind the staircase so the driver wouldn't see me, because I wasn't quite comfortable being out of the mystery wardrobe closet.
Dear Briarcliff Road, thanks for letting me cross you like a jackass.
Later during the walk, some lady opted to jog on the other side of the street rather than pass me. To whoever is responsible for pets loving you unconditionally... I could kiss you.
I made breakfast. Egg and cheese bagel. And these clothes still really stink. I need to spray more Febreze.
Patti and I had plans to go to the movies today. She casually said that she didn't feel like going anymore. "Is it because of what I'm wearing?" I asked. Her answer was, "Fine. I'll go into the theater five minutes before you."
I wouldn't say that I'm hiding from the outside world necessarily. It's just that this outfit makes it so easy to stay inside. Also, I am so tired of wearing this diseased robe. Nice work, Jason.
2:50 p.m. - Public Outing #2
I went to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things (besides glances and snickers). My bagger took a picture of me near the front door, and I had the undivided attention of every cashier and customer at every checkout aisle. Their mouths smiled while their jaws dropped. I owned that store. I'm definitely getting used to this outfit. It's sort of liberating.
Patti admitted that she didn't want to go to the movies with me because of my outfit. It's okay, because she knew to call herself an asshole for it. Yes, I am a model. But at what price, fame?
The rules clearly state that I have to wear the outfit from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. So naptime, here I come. I feel bad that I'm exploiting a loophole, but a little shuteye ought to put those feelings to rest. Heh. Puns.
I'm awake again, and I'm not happy about it.
My political platform has always been anti-fanny pack. But as I cooked dinner, I found a good use for it after all.
What started as funny ha-ha has turned into funny weird. Every thirty minutes or so, Patti and I slip back into reality and say, "I can't believe you're/I'm still wearing that thing." And then it's back to the TV.
I feel as filthy as I do ridiculous. I want to take a shower, but I'm not willing to get clean and then put this damn robe back on. Don't get me wrong; the robe is very comfortable (thank you, cotton/poly blend), but I'm convinced that Jason spent zero dollars on the robe because he went gravedigging.
9: 44 p.m.
T-shirt, shorts, and fanny pack, I've got no beef with you. You three are going in my closet and I'll see you next week. -- Robe, I'll see you at the crossroads.