I have a really good looking friend. His hair is perfect, stubble just so, sharp dresser, ultra bright smile, good jawline, the works. But when I show up for coffee with his wife (total babe) on a Sunday morning around 11am, it’s like he’s a different person. His beautiful locks are pulled into a strange top-knot, he’s in baggy sweats and a college t-shirt that is so thin you can see through it, and he looks like he smells. I wouldn’t know because I keep my distance when he’s having one of those days. I call it going Full Bobby.
Bobby, looking good. Me, so psyched that we match and really excited to eat at Yai Thai!
Where’s Bobby’s equally gorgeous wife? Flirting with Lonny, natch. We get a kick out of taking Fake Family pictures.
Today I went Full Bobby. Imagine it, because I’m not posting a picture: Green sweatpants that are a couple inches too short, white socks, black clogs, sweatshirt and uncombed hair. That whole outfit should get chucked. I rolled out of bed and straight to the vet to drop off a stool sample. Go ahead and fill in the blanks.
I don’t know what’s with me but I don’t think I’m the only going through it. I’ve gotten a couple emails from friends expressing similar ennui and the otherwise hot trainer at the gym (I’m running out my last 30 days) rockin’ a do-rag and a shaggy beard that makes him look like Grizzly Adams. I’m gonna give myself a week to snap out of it.
I usually default to cheese and crackers, shopping and listlessness when I get in this mood – or rather I want to – but I’m good at bucking up. So despite my Full-Bobby-Fuck-It-All appearance, I managed to be productive. I almost set my scanner on fire clearing my desk, I took some stuff to a consignment store (which irritated me because they rejected stuff that I bought there), didn’t buy anything, and went to the gym. I might look like a loser, but I’m not acting like one.
Outgrown slippers, water shoes, and stupid trainers that you can’t relace without hemostats and a valium. DONATE.
Whoopie cushion, parakeet feathers Micah gathered at a friend’s house, tea light holders. TRASH.