I Don't Need This Shirt

Have you ever played Brain Age? I played my it on my nephew's DS or Gameboy or Atari or whatever that thing was for half an hour one day, and I swear I was dumber when I finished.

I think it said I had the brain of a 2 year old. I'd rather my results be the brain of an 88 year old wrapped in an afghan down at the home, while playing Rook, but it said my brain was the age of a toddler. Great. At least I can successfully crap myself and eat off the floor.

Anyway, I am going to go kind of Brain Age on you with this post. Wherever I type the word "shit", you have to read it as the word "shirt". Wherever I type the word "shirt", you have to think the word "shit." I know this seems like a silly exercise, but your brain muscles will thank me. I am helping your cognitive function or some shirt.

See what I did there? I typed shirt. Did your brain say shit instead? It should have.

Anyway, I came upon a pile of shits in my closet (we are still playing Brain Age. I do NOT have clumps of fecal matter in my closet), that should definitely be chucked into the "Shirt Nobody Wants" bin down at the local Goodwill. I proudly wore these shits at one time, but since I recently turned 30, I no longer have a need for these shits. I could wear them down to the Hell Mart, and I'd fit right in, but I have too much class for that. On Tuesdays. 

 Check out this gem. Treasure Troll, circa 1991, with my name so beautifully airbrushed upon it. I got this shirt (did you say shit) on a field trip at Libertyland Park in Memphis, Tennessee. I vividly remember gnawing on a funnel cake and a tattooed guy created this masterpiece, while I watched in complete awe. I immediately put it on and proudly showcased it on all of the roller coaster rides that day. And I got a shirt-load of compliments on it during the bus ride home. I thought I was the shirt wearing this shit!

So, I was ten then. I am thirty now. The reason it still fits is because I was a fat ten year old. I weighed more then than I do now. And I was 2 feet shorter.

I cant remove this from my wardrobe because I have a feeling that this shit will be back in style soon. Watch out, Red Carpet. Treasure Trolls are destined to make a comeback.

That's what I said, MC Hammer. You cannot touch this. This shit comes in handy when I'm tired, my head hurts, and I want my husband to know that my plans for the evening are sleep. And only sleep.

If he sees me walk through the living room wearing this, and it's close to bed time, he knows to continue with his Pawn Stars marathon because I am going to bed and do not want to be bothered. As in, "Honey, tonight YOU CANNOT TOUCH THIS!"

I also wear this at the club when they play "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and I break out doing the Cabbage Patch.

No one can touch me when it comes to those mad dance moves. Ever.


This reads, "New Kids on the Block Tour". Guess what? I didn't go to the concert, but I bought this shirt at a little hole in the wall store and then wore that shit to school and acted like I went to the concert.

I can see me now, fat and eight, wearing this shirt, a huge NKOTB button hanging from the bottom (next to the hair scrunchy I used to tie my "shit tail"), and lying through my chubby little jaws.

"Yeah, my mom totally let me go to that concert. Jonathan looked right at me when they were singing "The Right Stuff."

Sickening. I was eight. Jonathan was like 40. Chris Hansen should have investigated this.

There's nothing "New" or "Kids" about these dudes now. And the only "Block" is the one in their arteries.

I let my daughter take the top three pictures. She's 5 and was totally confused at her mother owning such things. And she was even more confused that I wanted her to photograph me wearing such things. She finally said, "This has something to do with that blog, right?" But, I definitely didn't let my daughter catch a glimpse of the next classy shit. I set the auto timer thing on the camera and took it myself.

When you won't let your child take a picture of you wearing a shirt with marijuana on it, that's just damn good parenting.

I bought this shit in Miami Beach, Florida when I was 17. I thought I was slick. I told my mama I had to use the bathroom, but I sneaked in some little beach shop and shelled out my hard earned babysitting money for this classy clothing.

I smoked maybe 2 joints before I purchased this shirt, and I became a self-proclaimed "pothead".

Q: Who in the world WANTS to be known as a pothead?
A: Stupid 17 year old girls that have crushes on real potheads, that's who.

The funny thing is, I wasn't even close to being a pothead. I just wanted people to think I was. Ignorant.

So, I wore this shit around my small town, not the least bit embarrassed that I was running into the old ladies from church or my parent's friends. But, I was determined to get this "pothead" reputation to stick.


I knew it worked when I was standing in the concession stand line at a high school football game.This kid I vaguely knew said he wanted to speak to me.

Corn dog in my hand, we walked away from the crowd and he asked, "Are you holding?"

Um, say what now? Am I holding what?

I nodded at my corn dog. "I'm holding my corn dog."

"No, do you have anything on you?" he asked.

Um, say what now? Is there a bug on me?

"No, I don't think there's anything on me," I brushed at my shirt. "Do you see anything?"

"Weed, Susannah! Do you have any weed?!" he shouted.

Oh! Weed!? Heavens, no, I didn't have weed! What did he think I was? A pothead?

I quit wearing that shit.

Anyway, I suppose it is time to get rid of these shits. After all, I am 30 years old, right? I should probably stick to my "Spiegel Catalog" inspired outfits, with matching bangle bracelets and woven sandals, my gardening hat, and all of those outfits that I own which make me look like I stepped right out of a Tampax commercial.

So, how did you do with the "shit" and "shirt" switch? Isn't it amazing that these two words can ALWAYS be substituted for the other?

"I gotta go take a shirt".

See? Doesn't that sound better? It sounds like you are going to the cleaners instead of the toilet, right? I'd much rather picture you discussing starch policy at the cleaners than sitting on the commode.

"There's corn in my shirt!"

See? Doesn't that sound better? It sounds like you got a little messy while eating dinner, right? I'd much rather picture corn in your shirt than corn in your shit.

But, that's just me.