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.