Stewey and I were happily enjoying our tea and toast this morning when Bosco came bounding into the dining room.
"Aunt CJ! Cousin Stewey! The new uniforms are here! Can I get one?! Can I? Can I?"
And with that, he bounded right back out of the dining room to resume his cartoon watching.
"What do you suppose that was all about, Mo-ther?" Stewey asked, as he peered over the Times.
A few minutes later and I was reminded why I have such a love/hate pathology with my semi-beloved alma mater. I give you the 2016 Shamrock Series uniforms, as unveiled yesterday to horrified alumni and salivating pre-pubescent mouth breathers alike:
Once again, I am left to feel like the proverbial old lady hollering about the world going to hell in a handbasket and why oh why can't you damn kids just stay off the grass? I get it...I'm not exactly what you'd call the target demographic for this stuff, but what nineteen year old really loves the color of...shower mold?
Oh well, at least we won't have to worry about the dry cleaning bill if the damn things get dirty. These dun-colored monstrocities should hide whatever messes the team decides to roll around in quite nicely, unlike the Stapuft Marshmallow Man get ups from a few years ago:
Oey...back to breakfast and the newspaper. Maybe I can read a nice article about the Republican national convention or global warming to calm down...