Dress pants, wedding suckage
Posted on June 18, 2007
Filed Under Faggotry, Failures
Last weekend was, quite possibly, the most uncomfortable days of my life. This is primarily because of the usurious heat that has taken hold of Metro Manila lately. I actually think that these have got to be the hottest days I’ve experienced in the city. I do not have any empirical data to back this claim but then again, summer is usually the time when I up my hallucinogen intake so I really don’t remember much of previous summers. (Well there was this time when I was about 9 and I got attacked by pigeons as I was crossing the street; there was also this summer when I was in high school and I thought I had some sort of weird-ass STD as I had boils on my bird but was told by my doctor that it’s actually chicken pox; also that summer 5 years ago when I hung out with my uncle Edgar when he was on a terrible carousal and after a several games of tong-its, I “accidentally” went swimming down the tullahan river.)
So yeah, my memories of summers past are blurry at best. But I know this for certain, it was pretty fucking hot. And I say this because me whining about how fucking hot it is would be a recurring theme in this post.
Anyway, I had a couple of things on my to-do list last friday. The most important being that I had to get dress pants for my parents’ renewal of vows Saturday. Now, this shouldn’t be a difficult task since usually, when I shop, I go in the shop, get what I need, and get the fuck out; but as I mentioned, it was really fucking hot. The heat was so horrible that you could literally touch it and two seconds after I step out of an air conditioned room, I find my shirt drenched in sweat and my balls feel so slimy that I feel like I either pissed or ejaculated in my underwear.
Now, I have several pairs of dress pants which I wear to work and important meetings but the problem with them is that they are pleated and usually evoke this sort of conversation:
[In a meeting]
Me: “Dude, I’m so sleepy, do you know where the coffee dispenser is?”
Colleague: “We don’t have coffee. You know what else we don’t have? Pleated dress pants because it’s not 1982.”
So yeah, I needed to get flat-fronted dress pants and went to this shop at the mall to get one. Now, I’d like to stress that I am not particularly fond of shopping for clothes, let alone dress pants. I usually just ask my mom to get my clothes for me since she knows my size and she has a better sense of fashion than I do.And honestly, I don’t really care if it fits or looks nice. I mean even if I did get an expensive designer pair, I am not going to look good in them–In fact, I’d still look like the sweaty fat guy with no sense of fashion who shops where other aspiring metrosexuals shop.
Anyway, I got my pair from a shop called Memo where my measurements were taken by a Visayan queen who looked like he applied astringent on his face too liberally. I flipped through the rack of dress pants and got myself a flashily stylish black number. I took the pair off the rack, and tried it on in front of a mirror and as soon as I did, the Visayan sales person was all over me.
Me: [feeling a little uncomfortable] “How does it look?”[forced smile]
Sales Person: [In a thick southern/gay accent] “Veeeeerry Nice ser!”
Me: “You think? It does look a little long, do you have–”
Sales Person: [Sales person kneels down and begins tugging down on the crotch area of the pants, his face dangerously close to my package, reeking strongly of imitation designer perfume] “Well it does fit nice. We may have to do some alterations right here [tugging more on the crotch part] to make it fit better.”
Me: [Really uncomfortable now] “Um okay.”
I changed back into my jeans and had the sales person make the necessary alterations; something which didn’t take more than 20 minutes which was cool. It was still uncomfortable as hell though, and as soon as the Sales Person handed me my newly-purchased pair, I could’ve sworn I saw his lips purse as he said “Thank you sir.”
Now don’t get me wrong, the Sales Person was a rather attractive man and if I was drunk enough, I probably would’ve let him have his way with me especially if I needed a discount (which was the case. I mean, I just paid close to two thousand pesos for a pair of fucking pants) but I didn’t have the time and again, it was very hot. (Perhaps next time, Warren.)
Fast forward to the wedding–which was pretty uneventful and something which I will talk about in another post. Suffice it to say that because of the terrible heat, I was pretty much Fatty McSweat all throughout. This is emphasized more whenever I stand beside my Wedding Date/ Best Friend / Special Lady Maffy:
Anyway, congratulations to mom and dad for being able to survive 25 years of marriage and wanting to get married again and successfully doing so. I mean Jesus, I can’t even imagine myself managing to keep one marriage together (or being married to only one woman) and you guys did such a splendid job at it. I hate you.
More pictures in this flickr photoset.
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The Star
Mike "Fucking" Villar
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"The personal blog of Marketing Strategist, Rising Internet Star, Man Blog editor, child pornographer, alcoholic, and cokehead-- Douchebag Jones--Err, Mike Villar! -
Wow looks like you outdid yourself again mike how do you always end up with the hot girls
Superstar baby. That’s how I roll. Not.
Congrats, Mike.
I will still remember you as TMB’s resident slut, though.
Your wedding date looks divine! oh btw you look like you’re a congressman and that’s a compliment!
Or a Senay-tor perhaps?
what the hell does ‘usurious’ mean?
you’re depressing the hell out of me. you’re just like that asshole Marco who uses ’sporadic’ in everyday conversation. bah.
usurious ay expensive po atehhh