Tuesday, October 09, 2007



As you, by now, are well aware, I'm all about appearances. I'm a firm believer in the theory that while being good at one's job is fairly important, looking like one is good at one's job is crucial.

However, in order to battle traffic every day to get to work before 7am CST, I need to leave my house at dark o'clock. Sometimes my wardrobe choices are, as a result, a tad off.

Of course I've shown up with black shoes and a brown belt from time to time. While seeing this combination in the cold grim light of dawn causes me to twist and freak out a little, I'm disappointed than no one else has ever made mention of it.

Once or twice I've worn socks that didn't match my shirt. I've also made it out of the house with socks that didn't match each other, but since that "Dark Thursday" I keep a spare pair of socks (still in the factory packaging) in the glove compartment of my car.

Today's ensemble crosses into new territory. Today, due to the necessities of laundry proximity, my oxford shirt is dotted with quite a bit of blue glitter. One of the facts of glitter physics that is glossed over at the university level is that glitter, when exposed to atmosphere, coats everything. I don't mean everything on the art table, either. As little as one gram of the stuff can sparkle up surfaces in every room in a single family residence. A tube of glitter, spilled onto the tile floor, will not only stick to the floor but the walls and ceiling in every room in the house and every room of the house next door.

This same tube of glitter, when spilled and rolled in by a long-haired orange cat who would like her belly rubbed, will clone itself. A half an ounce of blue glitter almost instantly becomes ~12 cubic feet of angry sparkle. Angry sparkle which seeks out men's clothes and adds a touch of visual "pop" to everything.

However, I'm in no way upset by the statement this accessory makes. It boldly says, "I don't live alone." This is an important distinction in a geek's persona which can truly only be expressed by glitter on the sleeves. "I'm not going home to a cup of Top Ramen and an evening watching Dancing With The Stars in the dark," it proclaims.

I, as a confident man, can wear glitter outside of a rave and be better for it.

Just as long as none of it sticks to my hands. I freak out if stuff sticks to my hands.

Changing topics:

I stopped at the drug store (oddly appropriate, that) on my way in to work for a couple of 12-packs of Diet Coke (3,693 Coke Reward Points) and scored a couple of things for Mrs. Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng. I managed to find dark chocolate bars which are (according to the packaging) approximately 133% cocoa. These things were actually coating the nearby candies with a hard chocolate shell through two layers of plastic without decreasing their own mass.

Mrs. Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng likes dark chocolate which defies the basic laws of matter. Yay!

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