A Problem

Call it a muscle-T, a tank-top, or a "mank-top" -- It doesn't really matter. No matter how you call it, how you slice it, I've got a problem.

I've become an addict of sleeveless shirts.

It all started innocently enough. I noticed men in Spain wearing sleeveless shirts. They were not muscle-bound gym types, but normal guys like me. They were beating the evil rays of the sun and the disgustingly high temperatures with the oldest trick in the book -- they had gotten rid of extra clothing.

Who needs sleeves anyway? This is the question that I have been asking myself for a week or so now, as I sport my no-sleeved T-shirts (can they even be called "T's" anymore?).


Somehow I have even rationalized the purchase of a hooded, pocketed shirt, sans sleeves, and made of a sweatshirt-like material. Unfortunately I do not currently have a photograph of this gem, but I imagine one will soon enough grace the pages of this blog.

I believe that my explanation for this item's usefulness went something like, "For those days when it is too hot to wear sleeves but too cold to go outside without a hood."

Ellen's words, when she heard the news of my new purchase, were chilling. "I hope you lose it," she said, and then repeated herself, saying "I hope that you lose your luggage on the plane."

Harsh words, but really just tough love for an addict. Today I made another purchase (my fourth in a week or so). To be honest, the shirt doesn't really fit that great, and wouldn't say that I love it all that much, but I really couldn't help myself.

See, there is more than just the fact that this is a tank-top. It has words on it, words too ridiculous, too absurd, too surreal and strange for me to ignore. It says "Think Dirty."



As soon as I picked up the shirt, every irony-loving, hipster bone in my body screamed at me, "A tank-top that says "think dirty" -- You must buy it! You are beholden by your very honor to purchase this shirt!" And so, as you can all see above, I did just that.

Strange as these words seemed to me (and probably do to you), here in Spain, such oddities are in fact a quotidian sighting. I include below the text of some choice favorites, found during five minutes of "research" earlier today.

1. Working hard to be tunned
2. Spring Break Cancun 1988: Hot Experiences
3. Ride my roller coaster

As best as can figure, the Spanish clothing companies have hired illiterate Chinese slaves to work around the clock, dreaming up new and evermore inane slogans with which to decorate their wares.

And for some reason, people, myself included, buy this nonsense.