I wish I could wear a uniform every day.
Go ahead and do it[i].
I would, but the weak-minded child inside me thinks that people will talk behind my back.
General Public: “I think she wears the same clothes every day.”
I don’t mind being thought of as uncreative, but I do mind being thought of as dirty.
You shouldn’t worry what others think about you.
I’ve been told that before, but truthfully no one likes to be around someone who doesn’t care what others think…because they are assholes.
If I did wear a uniform, maybe I could put a sign on the back of each shirt that differentiated it. No, not something cheesy like the days of the week. Why? Because what if I put the Thursday shirt on really late Thursday night and then it was basically still clean Friday morning, and to save water I just put the Thursday shirt back on? Huh? What do you think about that? I don’t think you should make comments until you’ve thought them through.
What I’m talking about is a sign that just says, “No, I’m not wearing the same thing as yesterday. This is my uniform.”
I like signs that answer the questions we all have in our head. I think we need more signs for everything. I’ve always imagined if I was ever in a wheelchair I would have a big sign right on the back saying “Hit by a teenager who was texting “LOL” to her frienemy.” Below it would say: “Don’t text and drive.” And below that, written smaller, “And don’t drive without insurance. This sign brought to you by Geico.”
Because seriously you have to admit the most awkward part of talking to a stranger in a wheelchair[ii] is trying to concentrate on what they are saying over the screaming questions in your head. What happened? Were you born this way? Are you a Lady Gaga fan? Was it an accident? Was it something stupid you did, or something stupid somebody else did?
I think we need more signs, like bumper stickers saying, “I drive like a wanker because the chemo makes me angry.” I feel like if we understood people’s back story, we would be more compassionate about their behavior. If my kid was ever killed by a drunk driver, (if I publish this that guarantees it will never happen, right? Fingers crossed. 1,000 prayers. Kiss my Saint Nicholas statue.[iii]) I would put a bumper sticker on my car saying, “A drunk driver killed my child.” My sticker would act as a reminder to people of the real consequences of drunk driving. Of course, then I would be probably get rear-ended three times a day by someone crying in their car over my sticker.
On this drunk driving note, have you ever heard Florida’s anti drunk driving slogan “Decide before you drive.”
That is all I think when I see that slogan. What am I deciding? To drink and drive?
Who are you talking to, slogan? Are you asking drunk people to decide if they should drink and drive before they get behind the wheel? Because drunk drivers always decide to drive before they drive.
Or are you talking to sober people before they go out? Decide to not drive under the influence before you leave for the night? I am pretty sure every sober person tells themselves, “I am going to take a cab home tonight.” Three hours later, when they are no longer sober, they say, “Just this one time. I’m ok. I’ll be ok to drive.” And only the next morning, when they are sober again, will they admit, “I really shouldn’t have driven.”
But no matter what you do, you have made a decision. Decide before you drive. Did we pay millions of dollars to come up with this vague statement? Why did we stop saying, Don’t Drink and Drive? How about: Take a Cab.
Maybe the slogan is saying decide on a designated driver before you drive. But then shouldn’t it be, decide before you drink? The problem with designated drivers is they have a tendency to change their mind half way through the night. The only reliable designated drivers are pregnant women.
I think there should be a free taxi cab service that is run by pregnant women. It could be the Zip Car of taxis. Instead of walking around their houses in the middle of the night cursing at their sleeping husbands, pregnant women all over the country could be out driving drunk people home from bars. They could also hand out condoms and point to their belly and say, “This is what happens when you have sex while intoxicated.”
People would probably be sober by the time they got home, partly because pregnant women drive really slow, and also from the yelling, “Look at me. I’m swollen. I can’t sleep. I’m being kicked in the ribs.” (Hysterical sobbing.) I bet pregnancy rates from one-night-stands would plummet. Yelling Pregnant Woman induced sobriety would also help in case any of these women went into labor and the passengers had to drive her to the hospital.
Decide before you drive. Stupid Florida.
Maybe Floridians should have to wear a sign to identify themselves. “Talk slow, you are speaking to a Floridian.”
Signs could eliminate society’s need to ask stupid questions. Maybe signs should be required:
- Tall people should have to identify if they play basketball or not.
- Koreans could identify themselves as not Chinese.
- Pregnant women could wear a band on their arm.
We could even do it for religions. Jewish people could wear…hey…wait a minute. Delete. Delete. Delete.
I’m not talking about collared shirts and khaki pants here. (Do you see what I just did there: switched back to my original subject of uniforms with no transition? This is wear the kneed for a editor becomes xtremely a parent. Are you anal-retentive and work for free? Call me. 555-867-5309[iv]) No, I am saying I’ll find a flattering style that was popular back when the 1970’s were reinvented in 1991 and just wear that every day. I basically do that anyways. Hey, this is a different black cotton t-shirt and pair of out-of-style bell bottoms.
Hmm, if only I could let people know that, like on a sign or something.
[i] Yes, I am reading Dad is Fat, by Jim Gaffigan. How did you know?
[ii] “Really it’s awkward for you? How about the awkwardness of sitting in a wheel chair forever?” Hey! I just admitted I am a self-obsessed child. What more do you want? Compassion?
[iii] Did you know that Taxi cab drivers have their own saint? Saint Fiacre. I wonder if he looks after pregnant temporary cab drivers. Why do I ask? Keep reading.
[iv] Jenny, I got your number. But I’m serious. I need help. Email me.