Dear Readers,
The other night I was in Men’s Wearhouse (don’t know why spellcheck doesn’t recognize hilarious fashion/industrial puns) getting fitted for a suit for my buddy’s wedding—turns out the particular suit he wants to buy may or may not be made in my particular size, because I am a rotund freak who is between 6 and 400 White Castle sliders away from being too large to have my entire body covered by a reasonable amount of fabric—when I observed an interesting comment. After taking my sizes and confirming that conventional suits can indeed be made to fit a 275 lbs. man with the biggest biceps at the local tech company where he is employed, the Men’s Wearhouse employee asked my friend when he would be able to get the other groomsmen’s sizes so he can begin ordering the formal wear. “I was aiming for Sunday night,” my friend said. “Oh can we make it Monday?” the salesmen responded. “Sunday is Easter, one of the 4 days a year where we’re actually closed.”
The other night I was in Men’s Wearhouse (don’t know why spellcheck doesn’t recognize hilarious fashion/industrial puns) getting fitted for a suit for my buddy’s wedding—turns out the particular suit he wants to buy may or may not be made in my particular size, because I am a rotund freak who is between 6 and 400 White Castle sliders away from being too large to have my entire body covered by a reasonable amount of fabric—when I observed an interesting comment. After taking my sizes and confirming that conventional suits can indeed be made to fit a 275 lbs. man with the biggest biceps at the local tech company where he is employed, the Men’s Wearhouse employee asked my friend when he would be able to get the other groomsmen’s sizes so he can begin ordering the formal wear. “I was aiming for Sunday night,” my friend said. “Oh can we make it Monday?” the salesmen responded. “Sunday is Easter, one of the 4 days a year where we’re actually closed.”