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Sunday, July 6, 2008

How to Dress for Summer and Impress (some) Girls

There are several simple truths of summer. One is that any man who wears a short-sleeved dress shirt and a tie is a dork. Reach for that pocket protector, hoist your beltline above your navel and smother yourself in eau de Bug Spray. Call a hot dog a "weenie" because you are one.
Men who live in Bermuda, who wear a short-sleeved shirt and tie along with Bermuda shorts, calf-length black socks and seersucker sport coats are exempt from this otherwise blanket condemnation. They are just peculiar in the same manner that so many of the Queen’s loyal subjects are a bit weird.
No, in the summertime a real man saddled with the burden of employment wears a long-sleeved shirt. He may loosen the tie before noon, that’s okay, and rolling up sleeves looks manly.
Not since I wore my cousin Tommy’s hand-me-downs in high school have I owned a short-sleeved dress shirt.
And that may have been my problem.
You see, I have good veins. In fact, they are extraordinary.
During my recent prolonged holiday in the hospital a cheery nurse showed up every two hours to jab my arm with a needle and draw blood. Nurses came around the clock, and with each shift change a new happy face would appear to exclaim, "You have
great veins!"
As I headed for surgery one day the pre-op nurse was so delighted that I confessed that she wasn’t the first nurse to make the observation.
And she responded that whenever the OR girls went out for a night on the town the first thing they noticed in a man was the quality of his veins.
"Ask any nurse who draws a lot of blood," she said. "We’d never date a guy with bad veins."
If only I had known.
Early in my career I was blessed with a job that required my attendance from 11 p.m. until 7 a.m. I was single and living in Philadelphia at the time, and working that shift did ugly things to my social life that no one else ever seemed to appreciate.
You know what they all said?
"Well, working those hours you must meet a lot of nurses!"
Yeah, right. Where do you meet a nurse -- or anyone else who wants to hoist a libation -- at 7 o’clock on a weekday morning?
Desperation set in, so I began to do a little research in those wee hours when things tended to get a little slow at work. First, I learned that the law actually allowed bars to open at 7 a.m. Then I figured that if any did they would corner bars close to factories that had overnight shifts. Next, I hunted for a hospital located in neighborhood where there were a lot of factories.

At 7:30 the next morning I walked into a passion pit crammed with factory workers and nurses -- lots of nurses. The joint reeked of romance and I watched moral restraint drown in a sea of
cheap beer. Droves of people who arrived as ones departed in twos. Some may have been headed for the altar, but many seemed willing to skip over that detail.
Amid this frenzy of mating I was spectacularly unsuccessful.
Nary a nurse looked my way.
I finally left, alone, downhearted and mystified.
Now I know why.
I should have rolled up my sleeves.

This just in:
Bad Veins As A Defense Against Execution!
COLUMBUS, Ohio (AP) -- A death row inmate scheduled for execution says he's too fat to be put to death, claiming executioners would have trouble finding his veins and that his weight could diminish the effectiveness of one of the lethal injection drugs.
Death row inmate Richard Cooey says executioners would have trouble finding his veins to lethally inject him.
Lawyers for Richard Cooey argue in a federal lawsuit that Cooey -- 5-feet-7 and 267 pounds -- had poor veins when he faced execution five years ago and the problem has been worsened by weight gain.


Blogger Roo said...

Hi Ashley- Very entertaining stuff! Roll up those sleeves! Found you as a link on Kerri's blog. Lisa T.

July 8, 2008 12:39 PM  

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