At post 45, the few remaining readers are probably wondering if I really have 313 different topics to populate the series.
Are you kidding me? I probably have twice that but even if I didn’t, we live in the age where people just make stuff up.
On a non-related note, today I want to touch on a topic dear and close — or is it “close and dear”? — to my heart.
Undershirts. I wear an undershirt. Always. As in, underneath my outer shirt (the outer shirt is usually a T-shirt) I wear what is sometimes referred to as a wife-beater t-shirt.
Some call it a tank-top but since that name brings up undesired images of Richard Simmons and a guy called Perry (I’ve often wondered if they’re one and the same) I’ll stick with wife-beater (even though I’ve never acted — nor will I ever act — in a manner consistent with earning that appellation).
I find undershirts comfortable and, plus, I’ve never liked the feel of loose clothing on the skin of my upper body. Or, for that matter, on the skin of my lower body, but that’s going to eventually be a post about boxer shorts and why I don’t wear them. Mind you, I’m not commando-prone; I just don’t like boxers. The undergarment, not the dogs. I’m clarifying that for all the dog-lovers out there.
I also don’t like to show off my physique (I’m what one might call “misshapen”) so I’m not a fan of tight, form-fitting clothing. An undershirt is a perfect solution to what would otherwise be quite the sartorial conundrum.
Now, since I’ve moved to a tropical environment, some might argue an undershirt is not exactly a smart option when one wants to stay cool. I mean cool as not-hot and not the vernacular relating to one’s place on the social strata.
Current thinking when it comes to managing the heat in tropical environments is to wear cotton apparel — so far I’m good since my undershirts are cotton — with a loose fit. That aids the circulation of air that — in theory — helps keep the body cool by accelerating the evaporation of perspiration from the skin (the body’s natural cooling mechanism).
My experience is a bit different . . . the loose clothing sticks to the
sweaty perspiring skin and ends up irritating me because it impedes my movements. I mean, I can still move, but I don’t like — as stated above — the feel of clothes dragging across my skin. It makes me itch, it does.
Now, some would suggest I wear clothes with a snugger fit but that goes back both to my misshapen form and it counters the idea of the free flow of air.
To me, the undershirt is the perfect solution. Sure, it gets sopping wet, but what it’s doing is “whisking” the moisture away from the skin so that it can evaporate and keep me cool. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
And now, the photo:
Those are — I presume they’re still there — sculptures on the grounds of the Smithsonian gardens. I’ve done numerous treatments of this particular shot but this is by far my favorite.
I should have toned down the lime green color of the block of cement because it draws the eyes, but even so, not bad. If I recreate it, I’ll change the lime green to a more complementary color.
And now, I give you . . . more Mr. Boffo.
That version, I would have watched.
The movie Titanic — the Cameron version — is up there in my informal suckage ranks. Some say it’s a visual treat, others point to the love story . . . I don’t see those as redeeming the numerous flaws of the movie. Flaws I won’t go into here as that would have me revisit the experience and considerably darken my life and the enjoyment of same.
I often make different versions of a given doodle . . . rather than present them over time and across many posts, I give you . . . Same Thing, Different Ways. Two of those were already presented in previous posts so this also serves as a mini-stroll down memory lane.
And . . . that’s it
Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.
You can read about Project 313 HERE.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
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