Monday, November 15, 2004
The morning ritual
Once, when I was a child, we saw a McDonald's commercial, and that McDonald's commercial provided us with a long-running private joke.
In the commercial, Ronald McDonald (who else) goes through his morning routine. At one point he stops by his closet to pick out something to wear, but of course the only thing in his closet is a collection of those exact same goofy clown outfits he's always wearing. Several of them. But he says, like a real dope, "What to wear, what to wear."
This transformed the morning routine. I would walk to the closet and ask, "what to wear, what to wear," like a dopey clown. Once a year or so now, as an adult, I'll look at my closet and think that it seems I've worn everything that I'd care to wear recently and think, "what to wear, what to wear."
My most eager weeks of this phrase followed my conversion to sumo wrestling, and the thrilling days when I'd wake up to my drawer stuffed with newly-pressed white towels. Looking at the towels, I gleefully chanted "what to wear, what to wear" as I attempted to twist and ram the white towel into the proper sumo position. Never once did I end up with anything more appropriate to the ancient, honored martial art of sumo than a vague hat-tipping to saggy cloth baby diapers. In frustration I would throw the towel in (the wash) and put on normal clothes, and my sumo ambitions, meeting such repeated disappointments, fizzled into nothing in less than a week.
Too bad I didn't have this. It would have solved all my problems. And I, like these amazing athletes, could trot around in an embarrasingly painful chunky white thong.
Apparently, considering the size of the "models", the famous mass of the sumo wrestler comes post-loincloth. There's hope for me yet.
Thank you, Memepool.
And thank you, Sprint, whose incredibly slow website allowed me to write this whole post while I waited for the pages to load so I could make my payment.
In the commercial, Ronald McDonald (who else) goes through his morning routine. At one point he stops by his closet to pick out something to wear, but of course the only thing in his closet is a collection of those exact same goofy clown outfits he's always wearing. Several of them. But he says, like a real dope, "What to wear, what to wear."
This transformed the morning routine. I would walk to the closet and ask, "what to wear, what to wear," like a dopey clown. Once a year or so now, as an adult, I'll look at my closet and think that it seems I've worn everything that I'd care to wear recently and think, "what to wear, what to wear."
My most eager weeks of this phrase followed my conversion to sumo wrestling, and the thrilling days when I'd wake up to my drawer stuffed with newly-pressed white towels. Looking at the towels, I gleefully chanted "what to wear, what to wear" as I attempted to twist and ram the white towel into the proper sumo position. Never once did I end up with anything more appropriate to the ancient, honored martial art of sumo than a vague hat-tipping to saggy cloth baby diapers. In frustration I would throw the towel in (the wash) and put on normal clothes, and my sumo ambitions, meeting such repeated disappointments, fizzled into nothing in less than a week.
Too bad I didn't have this. It would have solved all my problems. And I, like these amazing athletes, could trot around in an embarrasingly painful chunky white thong.
Apparently, considering the size of the "models", the famous mass of the sumo wrestler comes post-loincloth. There's hope for me yet.
Thank you, Memepool.
And thank you, Sprint, whose incredibly slow website allowed me to write this whole post while I waited for the pages to load so I could make my payment.
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