This is, I suppose, one of those articles that I find funny at 12 at night, but won't be funny tomorrow when I go back and read it. In fact, it will be downright stupid. And the fact that I recognize this now in my half-asleep state and am still writing it is proof that I have serious problems.
Part The First
Sing, O muse, and tell of the cornshirt: the undergarment which I shall wear to The Chef's white trash wedding--that yellow-splotched tunic of class and elegance. How did this come to be?
Being single, it is usually impractical for me to cook for myself. Recipies are, after all, usually made for 2 or more people. And yet, I grow tired of canned soups and such, which are filled with sodium and crap. So I've started making soups and putting them in 2-cup portions in Ziploc containers. That way, I take them out of the freezer the day before, thaw them, and pop them in the microwave.
One of these recipies is curried corn bisque. It is low in calories, low in sodium, high in fiber, and absolutely packed with VITAMIN KORN.
I put that in bold because I love corn.
Anyway, one of the tricks of this soup is it requires blending, and the quantities are just slightly too big for my blender. And my blender doesn't pour so well, and leaks when it's too full and you tip it over. Or something. Anyway, I ended up with pureed corn juice all over my kitchen floor.
So I went to get a towel.
Part The Second
Here is the reason that I posted this story in the first place, because it is funny. Because it is sad. Pathetisad, even. That's basically being so sad and so pathetic that the line between the two blurs, and one cannot tell the difference. And it's funny if you're not the person who's pathetisad.
You see, I own a small quantity of bath towels and tend to use them up at an alarming rate. Mostly because whenever I do an activity that causes me to sweat, I will invariably take a bath.
Quit laughing! Shut up! Lots of people do it! It's perfectly normal!
Anyway, I'm such a complete failure at life that my supply of towels is gone well before the time I actually force myself to do laundry again. So I've taken to using white shirts as towels at these times. And why not? When do I ever wear them? Have you seen my massive collection of geek t-shirts? It's huge. Yes, I'm quite obviously overcompensating for something at this point, but I don't care because I own more geek shirts than you and that's why I'm awesome.
But I never really wear white shirts. Unless I'm wearing a white shirt and tie. Which I never do.
Part The Third
Where were we? Ah yes. The cornflood.
We were out of paper towels, and no kitchen towel would do. So I grabbed a t-shirt. And wiped. And soaked. And sopped. And cleaned.
Thus was born the cornshirt.
Perhaps I shall wear it to The Chef's white trash wedding, under my dirty white shirt (halfway buttoned) and the tie that got cut off at the end (probably by a chainsaw). All shall fear the glory of its golden hues as the sun mingles its own corn-colored rays with it in perfect harmony. And all shall enjoy the light scent of delicious corn.
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The Chef
This article demands pictures.
The Maitre d'
Agreed.
Then after I wash it, if I can still identify it, I will wear it and take a picture.
The Maitre d'
"Died in a tragic nomming accident."
Piccies tomorrow, maybe. If I'm not lazy.
Also, thanks to me tilting my roommates' Hamburger Helper bake as I was putting it in the oven, I now have some sort of Mexican rice casserole shirt. But for some reason that isn't as interesting... maybe because it was not packed with VITAMIN KORN!
The Maitre d'
Must resist.
The Chef
Go ahead.
reaperman
The Maitre d'
Sadly...
Woe is me.
The Maitre d'
"This article demands pictures."
Obviously, it's usually used in a different context.
reaperman
Sir Silverware
Forgot to ask
The Maitre d'
Krystal's.
"Hey, ya'll, how many sackfuls can'yah make in 30 minutes?"
reaperman
The Chef
The White-Trash Wedding
The Maitre d'
The Cornshirt
Sadly, if that is true, then it does not bode well, for it was laying on top of my hakama. Which means that, next convention, I can identify myself as "the guy dressed as Jin who smelled like musty corn" in any ensuing "did you take my photo?" or "did you see me?" forum threads.
On the bright side, that's better than smelling of ham... and vomit.
The Chef
Well, hey...
reaperman