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Because complaining about stuff shouldn't be limited to the elderly


Big Head wears pants (and the world ceases to accept)
Wednesday, October 3, 2007

I simply cannot wear pants. Or a buttoned up shirt for that matter. I get hot, sweaty, and just overall feel really, really icky.

Some magazine wanted to do an article about some sorta equipment we have here at work (it's nice to know I have all the details sorted out). My boss wanted me to pose as a photog while they took pictures of us in action (by them, I mean my boss: what sorta magazine asks its subjects to take their own photos). As per the big guy's request, I wore pants and a shirt with buttons (had to leave my "F-U" T-shirt at home).

While I'm certainly glad I can add model to my job description, it was actually a miserable experience because of my attire (did I mention the icky). But there was some good: it showed me that I cannot survive in a world where I hafta wear pants. Besides feeling uncomfortable, I look incredibly out of place. Some of my coworkers picked up on how unusual it was for me to wear pants.

"You look normal today," a someone said to me. "You have normal hair, long pants, a nice shirt--it's not something I'm used to seeing."

Even the temp sitting at the front desk made a comment about me wearing pants--and he's only been here two months (I don't know how he determined I hate pants: they've been summer months).


I have further proof to confirm the enormity that is my giant head. During a softball game last week I was playing second base. There was a runner on first with no outs when the batter hit a groundball to short. The shortstop fielded it cleanly and threw it to me. I caught it and threw it to first. But instead of catching the ball, our first baseman put his hands over his head and ducked. The runner was safe and we lost an opportunity for a double play.

The very next batter did the same thing. Ball got hit to short; shortstop threw it too me; and I fired it to first...and again the first baseman covered his head and ducked.

"Yo Arnold, what's up," I said to him. No one should ever duck from my throws: I have weak-girly arms.

"It's your head, man. When you throw the ball, it's blocking the sun. But when you move, it gets in my eyes."

That's right: my head is big enough to block out the sun. My head can cause solar eclipses. You have no idea how depressing that realization is.

© 2007 siknerd.com




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est. 2006   This page was last updated on Sunday, 22-Jan-2012 15:44:38 CST
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