the effects of college on a young man

Last Sunday, I went to eat breakfast at Cracker Barrel with my mom, my sister Whitney, and my brother in law Mike. We were going to eat with my mother’s boyfriend Joey and some of his family. I overslept, so I had to get dressed quickly, so I put on my black shorts and my Misfits t-shirt. When we were leaving the house, my mom stops me, and says “Ugh, Blake, can you please put on a different shirt?” 

“Why?”

I never got an answer. So, I go to the car with Whitney and Mike. When we get into the car, I say to them “What the fuck was up with that?” Whitney says “She probably is just worried about what the people at the restaurant think. It is Sunday morning, after all, and there’s going to be alot of church people there.” I responded “Fuck those people!” What, am I supposed to believe that a room full of grown ass people are going to be offended by a black shirt with a skull face on it? If so, I sure hope they never see a William Castle movie. They might have a stroke in the first five minutes.

Whitney said back “Well, Joey’s family will be there too.” I said “Fuck those people, too!” It’s not like we’re going to a five-star restaurant or something. It’s fucking Cracker Barrel! Odds are, there’s going to be at least 2 people in nothing but wife beaters and cut off blue jeans sitting at the table next to us. At least my outfit covers most of my amorphous torso. And like I give a shit about what the church people think. I’m a 20 years old, I’ll wear what I want. You don’t see me stopping some Rick Santorum-looking asshole wearing a sweater vest (which, by the way, is the gayest piece of clothing a male could possibly wear), and saying “Excuse me, could you please put something else on?” This is America, bitch. And there is no “Fashion Police”, as far as I know.