I’m back. An addendum to the post below. (For those of us who are a little slow today, that means “The post directly underneath this one. That is to say, the post that was posted before this post. The pre post.”)

All I know is that my anger is betraying the new persona I have created for myself. What new persona you ask? Why I’m glad you ask.

Because I no longer work in an office, I feel as though it is my duty to portray the relaxed guy who works at home. You know the guy. He comes in the office in jeans to pick up work. He’s happy, chats with everyone and you think, “Wow, what a great guy. I wish he were my friend. I think I’ll give him money!” And then you give him money!

But I’ve further refined that image. Yes. I’m laid back freelance guy. I walk into the office, crack some jokes, make people smile and wish they had my job. We all gain something out of this. They gain a good memory of the day. Maybe it’s a horrible day. Could be. Most of them are. But at least Gary came in and made you smile with that joke about the Cuban monkey dancer, right? And I get the lone social interaction of my day outside of my family (and they are required to pay attention to me).

I’ve taken it further. I’m now “Ugly Shirt Guy.”

I didn’t feel that it was enough just being visibly laid back. I need to project laid back in the most obnoxious way possible. And what better way than with outrageously colored and patterned shirts, indiscreetly untucked. They’re loose, they’re comfortable and they annoy people.

Oh, one other minor point. I actually look good in them.

So, I went into Mickey G’s yesterday wearing my favorite Ugly Shirt. It is technically white. At least that’s the base. But it’s the scene of a Woody (it’s a car, pervert) sitting on the beach under a lightly cloudy sky. My shoulders and chest are the sky and my stomach sports the Woody (stop thinking dirty thoughts!). It’s lovely. It’s loud. It screams, “I work at home and fashion means nothing to me! Be happy I’m wearing pants!”

I always wear pants, by the way.

So, I’m riding the elevator with a Mickey G’s employee. She says, “Is that a jeep on your shirt?”

“No, it’s a Woody. Very popular part of the surf culture of the early sixties.”

“Oh. You and your damn shirts.”

Me and my damn shirts. Finally. I get recognition. I am officially ugly shirt guy! Even better, the UPS guy, Dan, was riding back down with me. “You know, I wish I had a job where I could wear a Hawaiian shirt like that.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Ugly shirts are the way to go.”

“It’s not ugly! It’s a status symbol. That shirt signifies that you have what we all want. Freedom and happiness. Enjoy it!”

And so I shall.

And history supports me. Many great men have worn ugly shirts. They’ve been highly creative men who over come great problems and revolutionize the world, as we know it.

Who is it you ask?

For one, Brian Wilson. Despite his paranoid schizophrenia, heavy drug use, massive weight gain and nearly debilitating depression of decades past, he revolutionized music as we know it.

Another? John Lasseter. One of the coolest men on Earth. Head of Pixar, Super Genius. Plus, his entire staff wears ugly shirts. Hats off to you boys!

So I accept this responsibility. As Ugly Shirt Guy, I will exude my own version of cool, not bending to the rules of society at large. I will ooze laidback happiness. I will show the world what it means to be an Ugly Shirt Guy. I will urge people to add some music to their day. I will skip and sing and say weird things.

I am Ugly Shirt Guy. See me roar.