South Cakalackey

Marilyn had an honest-to-goodness southern/redneck experience this weekend. Friday night involved wings and beer at Hooters. The only other time I have been to a Hooters was in Ocean City, MD immediately after high school graduation. At that point in my life (having only lived in Ashland, PA and being under age 21), the Hooters experience was somewhat risque and daring. This weekend, it was just sad. Wings: tasted bad. Beer: tasted like any other beer. I spotted the following sign handwritten in sharpie marker on an 8x11 sheet of paper : "Try our cheese sticks and Bud Lite." Mmmm... delectable!

The Hooters experience was followed by a sweatpants-mandatory house party. This initially sounded super cozy and casual. Upon changing from "real" clothes into sweat clothes, Cousin Patches observed, "I'm only marginally more comfortable than I was before." Come to think of it, I agree. Sure, sweatsuits are soft and all, but are they THAT much more comfy than your daily clothes? If so, consider whether you might be buying too-small pants (BTW: I'm not buying too-small pants. I'm simply not buying pants because I refuse to acknowledge that I may have gone up a size since I last bought good dress pants.)

The sweatsuit cannot boast about its comfort NOR its warmth. Sure, I see the insulation properties of a form-fitting fleece top. However, an XL sweatshirt or hoodie provides no such benefit. Without direct material-to-skin contact, there is no warmth advantage. Refer to my past analysis of the NZ burrito vs. taco sleeping method for further explanation. What is the point of swimming in a giant poncho of a sweatshirt?? None, unless you're trying to conceal a figure flaw.

In the aftermath of the sweatsuit party, I found myself in the parking lot of a South Carolina gas station at 1:30am. Three young big-boned girls wearing daisy dukes (in January) with cowboy boots were being oogled by an old man who held the door open. Exiting out of the same door was a sweatsuit-clad man carrying a newly purchaed case of Miller Lite. "Geez, this place is full of white trash," I thought. Then I looked down and saw that I was wearing an XL sweatshirt emblazoned with the Miller Lite logo. Ehhh... Marilyn's judgments exclude present company.

For the love of comfort and sweatsuits, here are a few of my oldest and dearest girlfriends: Nic, Erin, and Kel.

This picture was taken on New Year's Day 2005 on the beaches of Atlantic City. This would be a natural segue into my thoughts on Jersey Shore, MTV's new hit reality show... except I am the only person in America to have not yet seen an episode of this show.