500 Days of Flannel

The wolf in sheep’s flannel.

I’ve been investing in men’s clothing lately. Specifically in $16 men’s flannels at Macy’s WHO, by the way, leaves the heat on 500 degrees in all their department stores. By the time I made it to the Men’s Department on the second floor I had to duck behind some scarves and wipe my upper lip sweat on the hats and mittens.

I’m starting to believe I have what one would call an “obsessive” personality. That hint might have been dropped for you when I started my series of posts “Songs I Listen to Compulsively” (new addition coming up soon…lots of Hall & Oates in this household this month).

WELL m’dears, if you have not tried on the John Ashford flannel collection, YOU are surely missing out. So what if it makes my already fleshy triceps look like giant meaty turkey legs you’d likely only find at a Renaissance Faire? They may look big but you know, those turkey legs are also damn DELICIOUS. You have to make sacrifices for the great good sometimes. And that greater good is the comfort of knowing you have a fantastic and comfortable outfit you can wear 8 days in a row without repeating a pattern or getting questioned about your own personal hygiene.

AND THEY HAVE CHRISTMAS-ESQUE COLORS! Like most plaid flannels, the standard red/green/some other color make you look extra festive and definitely not obnoxious at all.

Speaking of obnoxious, it’s that time of year again…IT’S A VERY LOLO CHRISTMAS! Every year I bathe in the holiday spirit by soaking myself in a nice hot bath of humiliation. Well, I’m not embarrassed by it, but I’m sure my peers have picked up the slack on those reindeer reigns and are mortified for me. SEE BELOW.

Screen Shot 2014-11-19 at 9.08.00 PM

I really relish in stretching the bounds of my appearance. In other words, I’m not afraid of seeing how far I can go to make myself look like an asshole. Turns out, all it takes is my blowdryer and a Kmart clearance sweater!

Anyhonk, if I don’t get my 13 hours of sleep I just might crack. I’m going to go lay down in my nice, soft, pile of flannels and dream about buying Irish Springs body wash and shaving my face.

okay I love you and don’t forget to build a castle in the sands of time.

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