Shirts

In my last post I mentioned something about a shirt obsession. Ever since I was little, I have always wanted a raglan shirt. For those unfamiliar with the concept, it's a shirt where the sleeves/shoulders/neckline are a different color than the torso of the shirt. I developed the odd little obsession because of the movie My Girl I think. The main character wears a few raglans throughout the movie. I have basically never been able to find a raglan shirt that fit me until last year. I found a bunch of different colors at a store for $6. I went nuts and got six of them. Then I found a couple to wear as pajamas for $7. Then I found some on sale at the bookstore in college. And on it went. I now have 19 or 20 of them, and have recently taken to trying to make some of my own.

I didn't have a pattern, so I made on of my own from a shirt I already had. There have been several failed attempts, but I now have three homemade raglans that I wear on a regular basis. Fabric stores don't seem to carry enough colors of the right fabric to make my shirts, so I've taken to buying shirts from the thrift store and cutting them up to make what I want. Maybe I'm weird, but who cares. THEY'RE RAGLANS!






On a different topic, Andy and I have been making a lot of homemade pizzas. Here is a picture of one of our delicious creations. We use basically the same toppings every time, but sometimes we go wild with the dough and make beer-dough pizza.

At work the other day I was doing some measuring for new costumes we got in. I found some super silly costumes. There was an alien with silly hands, so I took a picture wearing those. (It is my current profile picture on facebook.) Then I found a gorilla costume so I had fun with the feet. I really would have enjoyed it if I could have worn the feet all day, but I didn't think the bosses would appreciate it.

Lastly f or the day... When I work at the Jackson Hewitt Kiosk at Walmart on the weekends, this creepy 50-ish year old guy seems to find it necessary to come talk to me. He works there, and I have to see him almost every time I come in. Within a few weeks of starting the job, he told me that I should come to his birthday party, and that as soon as he figured out when it would be he would let me know. A week or so later he presented me with this fancy invitation. It seems like the more I look at it, the more grammatical mistakes I find. It creeped me out beyond belief to be given the invitation. Thankfully, the d-bag seems to have caught the hint that I would rather not talk to him because he doesn't bug me as much. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go look for something to wear to the "restaunt" for the "brithday" party...