Throw your arms high and thank the stars for a piece of time saving apparel. The T-shirt. What's in a T? Life baby, lots of life! It's a best friend. Besides stinky under-arms and drooling stains, the T is a bona fide life saver for up and coming bands spending time on the road.
Affordable. Easy to wash. Easy to pack. Easy to haul around. Lighter than a slice of Georgia pecan pie. More uses than a swiss army knife. Beers spill? Not a problem. Sop up with T, ring out-back in beer can. Hey, pinchin' pennies! In this case, I think everybody can agree that perfection has been achieved in the realm of musical Nomads.
I kick myself for not logging the more interesting T's attached to band members. It's the wild west of T's. Shoot-outs up and down main street. The young, the brazen, the eager. Dead thirsty for delivering a timeless piece of dialogue...."get outta town by sunset pod-ner".
Reality show alert! Chu-ching. T feels pride. T has reason to stand tall, so it stands to reason that T watching would be awesome. My bad. That is is the only time you will see awesome! Oye! Apologies!
The T-Shirt towel is always of strategic value when exiting the shower and in a rush. Multi tasking, bad-ass piece of adorably soft cotton! Need a pillow? It's there for you. Want to pretend that you have no head? It's there for you. Want to cry your eyes out? It's there for you.
What's the deelee-o with the kush of cotton? It sure has morphed. I barely recognize it. I have twin T's that state 100% cotton. They don't feel fluffy bunny soft! I have no desire to curl up in front of a toasty fire with either one. They are so uncooperative, that they fail miserably at attempting rag status! Twins, always a bloody hand full.
I can round robin three sticks of deodorant. The twins could care less. They yawn. Total indifference. Those scamps continually find a way to nail me with a stink bomb. Resourceful little buggers. Gives me slight pause. What exactly am I putting over my skin and where in the who-ha was it manufactured?
Looky, looky. Boxes of T-shirts stacked precariously high in an abandoned Radioactive materials warehouse. Finally, the secret is unveiled. Now I understand how bands acquire that special glow while perfoming on stage. What? You thought it was as simple as spray on suntan oil?
Hey, if we looked beyond our daily swipes, I am sure that we would suss out that more is happening in Pit city besides funky odors and two strips of grass! I'm not willing to go that deep. Are you? Good we keep them covered most of the time!
