fashion

Smelling your clothes to check if they're clean

April 2, 2015 by Edwin C. 6 Comments

Alright, so when I was a kid I remember my mom coming into my room and asking me why my clothes were all over the place, and why I didn’t use that basket thingy she got for the dirty clothes, and why I always needed batteries for my GameBoy, and to go outside and play, and.. well a bunch of other stuff, right? I guess its what mothers do. I could handle a lot of those questions, which I would just answer with a “just cuz, mom,” (yeah I was one of those kids), but one thing that made me use the dirty clothes’ basket thing, was that my mom would sort out what was clean and what wasn’t clean by sniffing it.

And MAN did it make me uncomfortable.

Dirty socks? *Sniff* yep, dirty.

Dirty shirt? *Sniff* hmm, smells okay.. *sniffs from the armpit area* nope. Dirty.

Dirty pants? *Sniff, from the crotch area* …

MOM! Please! Okay.

I guess that motivated me to also want to start doing my own laundry, to which every once in a while I still find myself tempted to sniff my armpit parts of the clothes to see if its dirty or not. Sometimes its just a check to see if I can wear it again without stinking up an elevator or scaring away my stranger bus seat partners. I mean, washing your clothes after a single wear seems like a waste of water, especially if all you did was put them on just to go to Safeway and take them off as soon as you come back home and put The Walking Dead back on Netflix and heat up your microwave pizza.

Maybe smell checking is normal.

*sniff*

What do you think?

127. Getting all dressed up and going nowhere

August 9, 2012 by Edwin C. 9 Comments

You do your nails inspired by an awesome Tumblr blog, you do your hair, and you decide to wear that one dress you were saving for when that guy from class gets the guts to invite you out to lunch after your chemistry lecture. Screw it, you’re going all out! Alright.. Maybe not “going all out” –actually, not even “going out”.

But who cares, you’re doing it for yourself. It’s a self-esteem booster after all, right? To feel good about yourself and no one else, to gain the inner conf –YEAH, RIGHT!

You dress up for other people. You’re sexy and you want people to know it. And ladies, there is nothing wrong with that.

How many times though, have you gotten all dressed up, gone to work, gotten back home and bumped into absolutely no one worth impressing? I guess its time to flood your friend’s feed on Instagram by making multiple 12-picture collages of yourself.

Sure, you can try to ask your friends to see if they’re up for a drink on a weekday. Or you can try again the following day. But its so much work to get all dressed up again, how does that one annoying skinny girl from work do it then? Blame it on pressure from the media for women to always want to look trendy, but you don’t have to! A lot of guys out there find the plain and simple girl quite attractive.. I’m not making this up to make anyone out there feel better or anything, but when a girl can barely walk in 5-inch heels and has to keep pulling down her skirt to keep herself from giving a free show, it only makes us guys want to offer you our hand. No, not to flirt with you –to keep you from falling on your butt.

It can be awkward when somebody compliments you, and its not because some people don’t know how to accept compliments (you know who you are), I mean this:

When someone compliments your shirt, he or she will always notice how often you wear it.

There’s no way around it.

[Inspired by @TheMalarie]

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In other news, I just joined Klout, and it says I’m influential about bacon! And yes, I’m proud of it.

Any one up for a little fun in the comments today?!

Replace ONE word in a BOOK TITLE with “BACON”

21. First dates

May 4, 2011 by Edwin C. 9 Comments

Do you remember yours? You had a horse drawn carriage pick you up, and take you to an expensive restaurant. Nobody was under/over dressed, there were no awkward silences, the food on the Italian restaurant menu was easy to pronounce. . . Perfection.

Lucky you.

It was the second week of college, and I had gotten my first number, but still struggled on how to ask out a woman. A friend of mine offered me tickets to a “concert”. She mentioned that it was going to be hip hop, cool people, and her boyfriend was going to perform.

“Oh, sure. How much?”

“Ten dollars.”

I got the pair of tickets and called Amy that same night. She said yes, and we set the time for me to go pick her up and head over the following week. There was a California Pizza Kitchen (CPK) nearby, and the plan was to hit both places that night. I was excited, but scared at the same time for not knowing what this whole thing was going to be about. After discussing it with my roommate, I decided that there was nothing to be fearful about and that I was just going to wing it to have a good time.

The day had finally arrived and we headed over to the center of L.A. My first sign of trouble was the traffic, which wasn’t supposed to take place for another two hours. That usually means one of two things: an accident, or construction on the roads. I wasn’t panicking –there was no need to. The need for panic was coming up later that night.

We arrived at CPK, only to find a large yellow tape across the front door. It apparently had a recent problem and was forced to close for the day. Still not panicking, I looked over at Amy and she smiled and suggested we go elsewhere, and pointed across the street. Oh, Carl’s Jr. Well, at least she didn’t mind cheap food. I admitted feeling a little embarrassed that I took her to eat burgers at a fast food place, but she made me feel a little better by telling me that it was her first time at one of them.

The failure didn’t end there. As we arrived at the address listed on the tickets, we found ourselves in front of a bar. After having our hands marked with HUGE X’s they let us in. We followed a girl with big hoop earrings through the bar and into .. the backyard!?

Oh no. Trash cans on fire, five or six people maximum out there, and a large speaker in the front of what they called a “stage”. People attempting to rap were taking over, and that’s when I realized that I was in some type of underground rapping joint and that I needed to get out of there to stop myself from being less embarrassed. Amy felt uncomfortable, and so did I. We agreed to leave the place after about half an hour and then headed back to campus. She went to her dorm room, and that was that.

Many things have changed since then. I still wing it sometimes because the improvisation makes it really fun and interesting, but I always try to be prepared. Looking up traffic conditions, making sure eateries are operational, and I have a super secret backup idea just in case all else fails.

Three years later, Amy and I bumped into each other on campus. We agreed that our date had been awkward. She pointed out that she didn’t know what to say, that she was overdressed for the occasion, and that she had trouble understanding what the people were rapping about.