T-Shirt of the Week #4

tsotw-button-1.jpgT-Shirt of the Week #4

Some people believe you can tell a lot about a person by the shoes they wear. I believe you can tell more about a person by the t-shirts they have worn. This is the story of my life, as told by the t-shirts I have worn.


WEEK 4: Okay, it’s pretty obvious that I’m not actually wearing this shirt. In chronicling my life through the t-shirts I have worn, I knew this would happen sooner or later, so I just decided to get this out of the way sooner. The fact of the matter is that this particular t-shirt doesn’t fit anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I can still put it on, but it is with the utmost shame and disgust that I must admit how portly I have become over the years, and to see me rocking this bad boy is nothing short of just plain sad.

I got a lot of wear out of this shirt over the years. It was given to me by two of my best friends—Ron and Kevin—back in the summer of 1986, after we all graduated high school. The Meat Puppets were playing in town with two local bands (I think the other bands were the Hellcows and Napalm Beach) at the Pine Street Theater. I had never been to a punk show, and Kevin and Ron dragged me out for this event—a sort of going away party for me, as I was soon headed off the New Jersey for college. What’s funny is that I have no memories of any of the bands, which is sad because I was neither drunk nor stoned. I did catch some of the first two bands, but by the time the Meat Puppets took the stage I was in the parking lot trying to make time with some chick whose name I can’t remember. All I remember about her is she had a tattoo of a spider, so over the years she has simply become known as Spider Chick. (This would become a sad, recurring theme in my life—missing out on something in the pursuit of ass).

All of this went down 21 years ago. A few weeks after that show I was off to New Jersey. I wore this shirt a lot in those days. Maybe it was because it reminded me of my friends back home. People would walk up to me and say, “I love the Meat Puppets,” and I would respond, “Yeah, they’re great.” The truth is that not only did I not see the show that night; I don’t believe I’ve ever even heard a single song by them.

To this day, I’m still friends with Ron and Kevin (in fact, I just spoke to both of them last week). The Meat Puppets recently came back through town, and I was almost tempted to go. Kevin would not have been able to make it, because he’s the father of two, and his youngest is barely a month old. Ron still goes to shows, but much of his time is spent either DJing, or chaining chicks up and whipping them (seriously, he’s in to that S&M stuff, and women love to be dominated by him). It’s funny because Kevin talks about changing dirty diapers, and Ron talks about leading submissive women around on a leash and smacking them on the ass with his cat-o-nine tails. I have trouble relating to a lot of what either of them is telling me. But we are still friends after all these years


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