Black Ties Aren't Fair (Did you see that? Do you see what I did there? Its funny because... *Sighs* Nevermind.)

Hyperbole is generally forbidden on this blog. And thats just fine with me, because this isn't hyperbole. I HATE getting dressed up. Well, "Hated." Its growing on me. Like a parasitic virus. In more ways than one.

There are a fair amount of reasons for my strong distaste for the whole thing. Which, irony of all ironies, have become my reasons for liking it. The tie is both an irritation to me, and a great enjoyment. I hate the tightness, the act of tying it, and the constant fixing of it. However, there isn't much better than getting complimented on a particularily quirky tie. Oh and it makes me smile when I certain girl asks to pull on it.

And I haven't even mentioned the shoes. They annoy me, they're uncomfortable and tend to reek after a long shift, but at the same time I think they look rather dapper. In a Perry The Platapus' Hat sort of way.

In close proximity to the shoes are the socks. They are the worst part, smelling garbage dumpish no matter how long I wore them. Be it five minutes or 24 hours. They. Stink. I find absolutely no good thing in their existence. Im even considering a Black Sock Burning Party. After the Justin Bieber Poster Buring Party, of course. *thinks about that* That'd probably smell like a million dead skunks being roasted in their own urine. Scratch that. Unless, I can do it outside a Justin Bieber concert...Maybe I should keep these thoughts a secret...

Also, not much beats the feeling of taking off all that stiff clothing and replacing it with my favorite sweatshirt.

I guess my tastes can change. Things grow on me. And other things grow old. But it took being forced out of what I would call comfortable to discover that.