The enemyI hate them. Shirts are inhibitors of bodily expression. Shirts are the enemy of love and abdominal and pectoral sexiness. Shirts are defenders of all that is evil, and they must be destroyed.
The solutionI am currently and forever ashamed of the following paragraph. Ben Shane has been a member of the Improv troupe for about a year now, and he's been a member of the Shirtless Squad for about a month. He and his non-improv friend Silas Capranica took a liking to button up shirts with no undershirts, and most importantly no buttons. For all but one of the days of this approximate month I, along with the rest of the troupe, have been strongly disapproving of this naked endeavor. It often escalated to us demanding that he button his shirt (see above) or else he couldn't do any improv. HOW WRONG WE WERE.
Today was Half-Shirt Sunday, where me and Nick Dietrich and (if he weren't such a bitch) Eliot Sill put on our best ironic Ben impressions and came with chests a-bursting. And what a day it was. I started off the day walking into the Hoogland Center with Nick, where I remarked how awkward and uncomfortable my appearance was. I could barely stand to be seen in public. By the end of the night I was going out of my way to keep as many shirts not on my body as possible. I eventually succeeded in not wearing all shirts.
You see, I realized that shirtlessness is a right of passage, not into manhood, but into freedom. And sexhood, if your thorax and abdomen are busting far enough ( :[ ours aren't). There's no feeling in the world like an open chest billowing in the low breeze and discomforted surrounding strangers. Especially when you're wearing a pair of black aviators to show them all how mysterious you are. It is total independence from caring what the shit everyone thinks about your wildly arrogant appearance. It is happiness.
For all those considering embracing the world with an open shirt, I encourage you wholeheartedly to strip away your inhibitions and discover a whole new life of uncontrollable self-centeredness. Go ahead. Get a feel for yourself.
Today was Half-Shirt Sunday, where me and Nick Dietrich and (if he weren't such a bitch) Eliot Sill put on our best ironic Ben impressions and came with chests a-bursting. And what a day it was. I started off the day walking into the Hoogland Center with Nick, where I remarked how awkward and uncomfortable my appearance was. I could barely stand to be seen in public. By the end of the night I was going out of my way to keep as many shirts not on my body as possible. I eventually succeeded in not wearing all shirts.
You see, I realized that shirtlessness is a right of passage, not into manhood, but into freedom. And sexhood, if your thorax and abdomen are busting far enough ( :[ ours aren't). There's no feeling in the world like an open chest billowing in the low breeze and discomforted surrounding strangers. Especially when you're wearing a pair of black aviators to show them all how mysterious you are. It is total independence from caring what the shit everyone thinks about your wildly arrogant appearance. It is happiness.
For all those considering embracing the world with an open shirt, I encourage you wholeheartedly to strip away your inhibitions and discover a whole new life of uncontrollable self-centeredness. Go ahead. Get a feel for yourself.
Robert, remember that time I didn't wear a shirt while we played four square and everyone was a total bitch about it? Fuck you guys for that.
ReplyDelete--Eliot
Eliot, that was before it was cool.
ReplyDelete--Robert