Thursday, April 4, 2013

Southwestern Shirttail Relative

I have a special dull checkered shirt that suits my wild eyebrows, hillbilly personality, and naturally unshaven serial-killer vacant gaze. This flanneled frock is unique in that it feels ‘Just Right’ in all ways except one – it’s too heavy to be a shirt. I know, I know - what makes me the arbiter of all things ‘hefty’, since my hunger for such detail ordinarily can’t be trusted to discern the real advantage of a bloated libido over a loaded burrito. 

Well for one thing I need to wear leg braces when moving my truck-like tunic from washboard to wringer because it retains more water than a 50 year old Tajikistan dam. It’s no wonder why smart ducks avoid hunters in their sweat-soaked spongy sportswear since when wrapped in flannel, water never rolls off MY oily back either. Yes you can forget those wimpy Wal-Mart wire hangers to lift a blousy fleece-beast as brawny as mine, ‘cause it will always need a chain to hoist when moist. 

So on colder ‘rain-away’ days I have resorted to using my soft n’ puffy smock so fluffy as more of a parka pelt to help me button-up OVER my ordinary button-down, overstuffed-shirt. It makes sense because anyone who knows me knows that if CHILLY is on the menu, in the End there can BE NO better relief than to cover-up with a double ‘wind-breaker’. Hey I’m sorry but it still stinks like Winter around here so ‘frosting’ or not I’ve yet to turn my nose up on both a layered cake or a stratified stack of civvies harboring my abused but surprisingly still silky skivvies.

Recently on a visit, my obviously jaundiced-eyed Southwestern Sister-in-law descried my day after day, same-shirt attire and accused me falsely of being NUN the wiser and never changing my bad Habits.  Beyond my rejected offer of a ‘scratch n’ sniff’ test, I tried to explain my flagrant flannel flagellation as a relative act of survival within the bounds of the ice-box tundra in which I trudge. Anyway, little did my lawless sissy know, what really makes old ‘Pop tarts’ like me so special, is that the flavor underneath remains forever fresh, even if that dusty crusty off-colored COATING never changes.  


  1. Betcha you weren't treating that heavy shirt so lightly last
    winter when they were planning to rename your New England
    "New Antarctica."
    Maybe you don't change it because last winter it was
    almost Instant Frostbite to take off your shirt. But this
    summer you can slip on a Hawaiian shirt - - If it's
    made of flannel.
    (We enjoy your blogs.)

  2. No one ever complains about animals changing their fur coats only a couple of times a year.

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