don’t use this word
Sorry, but there’s no such thing as a classy two-button tux.
yeah good point…ill fix that one…I havent put on pants in 60 days…who am i to talk about fashion
Presumably you’re going down to 1 here and not advocating for early 2000s draft night button counts.
Better. Or “Classic”. Classy is just a cringe word to me. Sorry.
In @Lazstradamus words, buy what was in style 20 years ago:
Alternatively, be fully prepared for the metabolism slow down of 25-28 years old, and avoid gaining LBS at all costs…or just keep buying suits
Understand the confusion - my bad - should have said I’m Irish.
From my days working in a bar back home, tourists (especially those from a place that should know better) immediately calling you "a Paddy or “a Mick” is 100% the wrong thing to do and will make people dislike you instantly and wholeheartedly.
Early adopter of logo swag tweets. Collected a putter headcover from every famous american course. Like, all of them. Then sold them all off on eBay in one big merch dump shortly after the arrival of baby.
This is how Under Armour started.
I don’t even have one for every putter. But I dig em. And I will be adding to collections as the old putters get redone by @ThePutterDepot
And Nike IIRC.
Reverse searing steaks is great. You have 40-45 minutes to do all of your sides and other prep.
Oh, yeah. I could weep for the steaks I’ve cooked over direct heat in the past. The worst thing is, like lots of guis, I thought I was doing a great job of cooking my steaks.
I know I’m a couple days behind on this one, and I really love the film, but the rat trashed the ending for me. Like, Marty, we got it - your audience didn’t need that one spelled out…
I don’t get “nice” clothing, I mean clothing is literally a social construct & doesn’t matter unless you’re like a firefighter or some shit like that who gives a shit
/jumps to contrarian takes thread
Worked in a bar just off Princes Street, Edinburgh, always, always packed. Freebird and Stairway to Heaven came on 5 or 6 times a night. Nightmare. It was a remote juke box, with a couple of wall mounted terminals. We broke the padlock and every Friday and Saturday night thereafter would swap out for a couple that we liked. Double swap, so anyone punching our numbers wouldn’t get Freebird either.
Went to a stag do…next thing I know I’m staggering along the street and a cop car pulls up beside me.
“Hey son, where’re you going?”
“Going home, offfficer.”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Where’re your clothes?”
“Where are your clothes?”
Looks down, only wearing a shirt.
“Where d’you live”
“Get in, you can’t go around like that”
Took me home.
Top floor apartment, toilet adjacent to front door, … I was playing an important rugby match the next day and apparently was on the way to the ground.
Mortal hangover, scrums were a bit fuggy.