Garanimals for adults and Mom's big purse.

Tony here.

Mike was getting on me about what I was wearing the other day.    According to him I have some kind of internal "sequencing" device where I wear the same thing on particular days.    All the time.   See, I'm missing that gene that most of our "kind" gets.   I have no ability to dress myself.    When I was growing up I remembered a clothing line called "Garanimals".    You could match the tag for the shirt with the tag with the pants, and BINGO, you had an outfit.   Like having your own personal fairy godmother.    In High School art class my teachers asked, "How did you graduate first grade???".

Why don't they have Garanimals for Adults?    I have been "Relieved Of Command" regarding the dressing of our daughter.   Apparently she'll look too much like a hobo or a circus clown if I make the attempt.

Keep in mind I haven't required alot of flair for most of my life getting ready for work.   It's always been a uniform or protective equipment of some sort.     So maybe I need to sneak in some practice with the baby while Mike's not paying attention......

In the 1970's Mom's always had these enormous purses.    There was an animated cartoon in the mid 1950's called "Felix The Cat" (See "Felix The Cat : The Magic Bag" on YouTube).    He walked around with this bag that could change into an aircraft carrier or a solar panel.      In looking at all the bags that we'll be shlepping around, it reminds me of those purses Mom had.    She could pull out a kleenex, codeine cough syrup, a bag of popcorn, hide an entire dinner Ham, or help someone into the country.     My Dad was the same way.    I remember trying to pull my Dad's jacket off the back of the chair, and having it fall on me, and realizing I was trapped under alot of weight.   Every key, knives, tools, flashlights, you name it, it was in there.

I SWORE TO GOD I would never become those people.    But it's happening.    We're going to become THEM.

You'll see us walking down the street, me in a jacket weighing 40 pounds, dragging a bag weighing twice that much, and our baby in Mike's arms in a Gold Lame' pantsuit (my idea, and we'll be running too late to change her).

Mike irons EVERYTHING.    Unlike him, I pull it out of the dryer, or I do the... wait for it... sniff test.    If it doesn't smell like my armpit or worse, it's wearable.   Most guys function in this manner.    It's worked for like 10,000 years, so get off my back....