Shower controls can be tricky indeed, but I find figuring out how to turn the myriad lamps and lights on in a hotel room to be akin to an evil scavenger hunt. Makes finding those pants that are too tight infinitely harder.
I used to go to NYC frequently for work. I worked for a Japanese company so would stay at a Japanese-centric hotel. I had to read the instructions to use the shower in my room!
This summer I spent a night at a hotel in Stockholm where I couldn't find the closet. All the walls were shiny, beautiful wood, and it was only when I accidentally leaned against a corner of the wall and it swung open did I find the closet. It had no door handle of any kind.
I never got to see the shower controls -- the side of the tub was so wide that I would have had to perform some kind of acrobatic move to get into the tub -- it was a death trap! I decided that a "sponge bath" would have to do.
you had instructions? I almost miss the day when , at least in movies, a redcap would accompany you to the room and show you all the switches..ok in those days it was ONE switch..and how to use the shower until you were forced to pay him to leave. Never, of course, have I spent a night at one of those, we were much more into sleeping in the car
Indeed. Issue is that every lamp has an on/off switch in a different, often hidden or concealed place. No rhyme or reason. And you need a phd in some hotels to figure out how to turn on the overhead lights, too.
Rich- This phd has not found the degree helpful! It's all trial and error. Showers are the worst. If you hit the wrong one, you ARE going to get icy cold or the scalding hot, ffs.
Apparently you have not heard from the DAUGHTERS OF SOUTHERN MOTHERS. We (yes, I are one) cater to not one single fashion designer on the planet. (And don't you dare go looking around on Mars.) We subscribe to ONE and only ONE fashion rule: IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE LOCKED OUT OF THE HOUSE BY YOUR MOTHER, NEVER LEAVE THE UNLESS YOU'VE COVERED AT LEAST 72% OF YOUR BODY WITH LYCRA OR TODAY'S VERSION OF IT- SPANDEX. Better yet, Spanx.
My extremely Southern Mama, (nope, not "Mom" or God Forbid "Mother") told my step sister and I that she would not TOLERATE us girls leaving HER HOME out in the middle of the judgmental southern cul-de-sac looking like a homeless person or we WOULD BE. Once, my big step sister looked out of the window to see envelopes in our mailbox thinking there might be a letter from a "beau". She foolishly didn't remember THE RULE and darted outside, wearing a bathrobe, rollers in her hair and bedroom slippers. Mama locked her out for an hour "TO THINK ABOUT MAMA'S COMPLETE EMBARRASSMENT".
We didn't DARE joke about it. Mama's mission to make sure we didn't embarrass HER by wearing something less than Debutante Rated with the RDA of elastic. That included absolutely no bra that LIFTED, but instead could put an eye out with the pointy endcaps.
There was never a question about:
Big Hair. Maximum underwear that required a lock and two keys, footwear that sported spike heels, not high enough to be taller than the "beau" you were supposed to impress, but not low enough so that people would assume you were the SEXY SCHOOL MARM.
The rules were impossible to navigate as a preteen, especially for my older sister who didn't have anything but gym socks to fill her Maidenform.
When my high school finally allowed....GASP.....girls to wear BLUE JEANS in 1972, I had no choice but to test out, get a job and pay for the 1st two years of college before joining the Air Force who paid for the next 2 years of college. They were less judgmental about what I wore off duty.
The only definite rule was no beanies with propellers.
For Dave and all of my male comrades: I have a word for you, a word that can be your key to unlock the bindings of pants fraughtery. This word will be the end of your PTTSD and all other pant-related disorders. The word is CARHARTT. You’re welcome.
My wife is not as discrete as yours. Her usual comment on my sartorial selection is, "Are you really gonna wear that?" This comment always comes ten minutes after we're in the car heading for the event.
My measured response is to slam on the brakes, make a U-turn (on I-95) and race home to put on my tuxedo.
Afterwards, she'll say, "Ya know we're going to a pool party".
To which, I reply (with all the smugness I can muster), "A tux is never out of place!"
I'm Scottish and I don't wear pants.
You win the Internet today 😂
No such thing as a “slim kilt?”
Elevated. Elevated kilt.
If ya run into an elevated kilt, Deary, it's best to run in another direction, unless ya're his betrothed.
Hahahaha
A slim kilt: that’s basically a mini skirt.
The Slim Kilts is a Scottish boy band, I believe
Har!! :D
Whoa, Wis, good one!
(Watch out for hegseth)
Excellent!
TMI
Well played!
Aha…mystery solved: No pants under the kilt. Thank you. I’ve trod behind many a Scotsman hoping for a propitious wind to lift that skirt!
Especially under the kilt.
Excellent.
People of means may wear costly new jeans. Cheap blue jeans are quite strictly forbidden. It’s a challenge for me,
To look comfy and free,
When I must keep my ‘bay window’ hidden.
When I’m out on the town, and I let my hair down,
My bride picks out the pants, and I trust her
On my own I would seize WalMart’s cheap dungarees,
But I know they would never pass muster.
To avoid any spat, she avoids the word fat,
As she steers me toward “Stylish and Stout”.
I have fears when I sit that my
trousers will split
And my avoirdupoids will bust out.
It has meant I abort any trips to resorts.
Lest the innocent witness my belly.
I have sweatpants I save
To wear in my man cave
With my wide-screen and snacks from the deli.
What we Mainers call a big gut.
Dunlops. It done lops over your belt!
Dunlop’s are as good as a Goodyear;
They’re as sound as a fine Firestone.
And they’re made out of blubber, not Vulcanized rubber
Laughing aloud. Thank you. Just brilliant.
what's the bay window?
Perched above my erogenous zone.
Excellent poem, containing sneaky passages of true pants pain.
Shower controls can be tricky indeed, but I find figuring out how to turn the myriad lamps and lights on in a hotel room to be akin to an evil scavenger hunt. Makes finding those pants that are too tight infinitely harder.
I used to go to NYC frequently for work. I worked for a Japanese company so would stay at a Japanese-centric hotel. I had to read the instructions to use the shower in my room!
This summer I spent a night at a hotel in Stockholm where I couldn't find the closet. All the walls were shiny, beautiful wood, and it was only when I accidentally leaned against a corner of the wall and it swung open did I find the closet. It had no door handle of any kind.
I never got to see the shower controls -- the side of the tub was so wide that I would have had to perform some kind of acrobatic move to get into the tub -- it was a death trap! I decided that a "sponge bath" would have to do.
What? You missed the chance to do laps in your own private pool?
The tub itself wasn't wide -- it was the part you had to step (crawl?) over to get into the tub. I decided to pass.
you had instructions? I almost miss the day when , at least in movies, a redcap would accompany you to the room and show you all the switches..ok in those days it was ONE switch..and how to use the shower until you were forced to pay him to leave. Never, of course, have I spent a night at one of those, we were much more into sleeping in the car
Even harder to get them on in the dark, I would surmise.
Indeed. Issue is that every lamp has an on/off switch in a different, often hidden or concealed place. No rhyme or reason. And you need a phd in some hotels to figure out how to turn on the overhead lights, too.
Rich- This phd has not found the degree helpful! It's all trial and error. Showers are the worst. If you hit the wrong one, you ARE going to get icy cold or the scalding hot, ffs.
Aren’t those switches at the door? Many a toe stubbed and expletive screamed trying to find them.
The correct comeback when your wife asks you, “Is that what you’re wearing?”, is “What did you do to your hair?”
Har! After saying that, the resulting argument (or total silence) might preclude going to the event altogether…! Problem solved!
Reminds me of a favorite James Taylor song “Is That the Way You Look?”
Wait What?? Why??
Oh brave man.
This article proves Michelle wears the pants in the Barry household.
As if there was ever any question.
Right? Duh. She’s a professional sports writer who knows David Beckham!! 100% badass!!!
Yeah, as if 😎
You must be genuinely embarrassed to have not posted pictures of you wearing the pants that are the primary topic of this Substack post.
They are now in a remote area of my closet, where nobody ever goes.
Known by some of us as the FUTURE DUST CLOTH SUPPLY
Except weasels
And after the comic strip series of falling last week. I kept hoping for that exact photo as I read this.
When I was growing up, our pants were both tight AND loose at the same time — tight jeans with bell bottoms!
Robin Williams. I feel free to plagiarize since I’m not getting paid for this.
Are those bell bottoms? Why are my cuffs ringing??
Michelle’s four words join the sacred canon of Wifespeak: ‘Are those new pants?’ ‘You’re not wearing that.’ and ‘Do you hear yourself?’
“How do I look?” “Do I look fat?”
Apparently you have not heard from the DAUGHTERS OF SOUTHERN MOTHERS. We (yes, I are one) cater to not one single fashion designer on the planet. (And don't you dare go looking around on Mars.) We subscribe to ONE and only ONE fashion rule: IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE LOCKED OUT OF THE HOUSE BY YOUR MOTHER, NEVER LEAVE THE UNLESS YOU'VE COVERED AT LEAST 72% OF YOUR BODY WITH LYCRA OR TODAY'S VERSION OF IT- SPANDEX. Better yet, Spanx.
My extremely Southern Mama, (nope, not "Mom" or God Forbid "Mother") told my step sister and I that she would not TOLERATE us girls leaving HER HOME out in the middle of the judgmental southern cul-de-sac looking like a homeless person or we WOULD BE. Once, my big step sister looked out of the window to see envelopes in our mailbox thinking there might be a letter from a "beau". She foolishly didn't remember THE RULE and darted outside, wearing a bathrobe, rollers in her hair and bedroom slippers. Mama locked her out for an hour "TO THINK ABOUT MAMA'S COMPLETE EMBARRASSMENT".
We didn't DARE joke about it. Mama's mission to make sure we didn't embarrass HER by wearing something less than Debutante Rated with the RDA of elastic. That included absolutely no bra that LIFTED, but instead could put an eye out with the pointy endcaps.
There was never a question about:
Big Hair. Maximum underwear that required a lock and two keys, footwear that sported spike heels, not high enough to be taller than the "beau" you were supposed to impress, but not low enough so that people would assume you were the SEXY SCHOOL MARM.
The rules were impossible to navigate as a preteen, especially for my older sister who didn't have anything but gym socks to fill her Maidenform.
When my high school finally allowed....GASP.....girls to wear BLUE JEANS in 1972, I had no choice but to test out, get a job and pay for the 1st two years of college before joining the Air Force who paid for the next 2 years of college. They were less judgmental about what I wore off duty.
The only definite rule was no beanies with propellers.
Barsoom fashion - too obscure?
In Dave Barry's house, he wears the pants, but his wife tells him which pair.
For Dave and all of my male comrades: I have a word for you, a word that can be your key to unlock the bindings of pants fraughtery. This word will be the end of your PTTSD and all other pant-related disorders. The word is CARHARTT. You’re welcome.
“Fraughtery.” I was going to ask if the conjugations include “fraught, fraughter, fraughtest, fraughtieriest”?
I fraught the law, and the law won.
OMG I adore you.
🤣🤣🤣
My wife is not as discrete as yours. Her usual comment on my sartorial selection is, "Are you really gonna wear that?" This comment always comes ten minutes after we're in the car heading for the event.
My measured response is to slam on the brakes, make a U-turn (on I-95) and race home to put on my tuxedo.
Afterwards, she'll say, "Ya know we're going to a pool party".
To which, I reply (with all the smugness I can muster), "A tux is never out of place!"
God I love that woman!
Punch Magazine, 1925, on the psychology of fashion: https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/rXcAAOSweg9jdVyQ/s-l1600.jpg
Yeah Dave, don't think an um...elevated...um...finish...is a good idea when wearing underpants in public.
knew someone was going to say it
The dish towel belt is this year’s must-have accessory?
As the Lyle Lovett song goes… "Pants is Overrated."
Sample lyric:
My people from across the pond
They hail from Scotland and beyond
Where sheep make wool for socks and shirts
And grown men run around in skirts...
Pants is overrated
The advantage of getting older, if there is one (besides the alternative, not getting older), is: Who cares?