Stop It, Stop It and Please, Please Stop IT!!!

Dear Men who wear pajamas in public,

I feel like we have had this conversation before, and I just don't see your side of the story.   I have often heard that you should begin any kind of confrontation with a positive.....so here goes.  I get that it takes someone totally confident in their fashion sense to walk out of the house, down a street or through the aisles of any store wearing beer logos, cartoon characters or sets of lips scattered up and down your legs...so I'll give you props for the confidence.  Now, the truth....I don't really think it's confidence...I think you've given up.  Wander back with me, if you will, to your childhood.  If your mother had presented you with a pair of pants that had any kind of embellishment you would have locked your self in your room and refused to leave the house for fear that your friends would forever torment you, banishing you to the corner of the cafeteria, dodge ball would become target practice and you would forever be the target.  Ahhh, yes, it's all coming back to you now isn't it?  Somewhere along the line you forgot, stopped caring or maybe you have a much higher vision of how you appear to others....

 

This is not you!  You are not Hugh Hefner.

Maybe, you are going for an odd quirky persona to share with the world...

 

You are not the King of Pop!

So, I ask you "What is wrong with a pair of blue jeans?"  Or a plain old pair of sweat pants.  At least it looks like you just came from or are headed to work out.  That you had some sort of will to live when you left the house.  That maybe you at least planned to shower...

 

Isn't that so much better? It is just as easy to put these on as those pajama pants.  ( But don't wear those kind of shoes with your sweatpants...it screams predator or convict or something....just go for some good old tennis shoes).

I will give a pass to anyone who is perhaps on their way home from the hospital after some sort of surgery and is desperately in need of milk or medication..that's pretty much the only time pajamas should show themselves outside your front door.  So please men, I beg you....you are a grown man, start dressing like one. 
Love Always,
Greg

I got... I mean "had" the Moves Like Jagger

Something happened.  I don't know how recently it happened.  I can't really pin point it, because up until a few days ago I didn't know it happened.  Let me explain.

First, let me take you back to a time when life was simple.  Well, simple in a general, no internet, kind of way.  I was in junior high.  I can't quite remember why, but in junior high chorus, we would get to dance.  Not like a glee club performance of dance, but like turn the lights off in the classroom, no singing and play popular music and dance.  For whatever reason, Mrs. Lindstrom would pick people who she thought were doing the best job of dancing....sort of like a primitive version of "So You Think You Can Dance".  I remember how excited I was when one Friday, I was one of the dancers chosen...I along with a handful of others had been plucked from the crowd for my wicked, cool dance moves.  I wore that crown for years.  Anytime I found myself on a dance floor, I was more confident than Danny Zuko dancing the Hand Jive with Cha Cha in "Grease."  Although my opportunities to dance (in public) have become less and less, I was still quite confident in my abilities...I mean come on, I wasn't one of those old guys who dances like he did in high school and all the youngsters stare at....or at least I didn't think so.  As chance would have it, I (like all the hip kids are getting these days) got a Wii for Christmas.  ( I know, I know, welcome to the 2000's).  I couldn't wait to get the latest "Just Dance 4" and bust a move.  I mean, those commercials were like my dream come true...all those people dancing in unison to the latest dance tunes.  ( I have often spoke of my desire to participate in an impromptu dance number ala Jennifer Garner's amazing "Thriller" number in "13 Going on 30" or any random episode of "Glee").  So, I was going to learn how with the help of my fancy new Wii.  Paula Abdul move over.  What happened next still cannot be explained in real words.  The music started "Hey I just met you...and this is crazy"...wait, I have to move my hands and feet like THAT?  At the same time?  Stop, slow down...what the?   And the song ends.  Maybe it was just the song choice....let's try another.   Slow down!!! The result of my first "Just Dance"...me sort of marching in place and twirling my arms around to keep up.  Shameful.  My dance crown, lay shattered on the floor.  Paula Abdul has won this battle.  But I shall not giveth upeth.  I shall practice like the "Black Swan" and I will finish one song if it kills me.  Look out "Solid Gold Dancers"....I'm coming for you.