Happy Sunday everybody. I hope you all have had a nice relaxing weekend, and that you’re all ready to put on your big boy/girl pants and get to work. As with all of my advice to my readers, this is really just a public message to myself. I have yet to put on my big boy pants, or any pants for that matter and it’s already 4:30 pm! I don’t know if that violates the gentleman’s rule, but it does violate the rules of society today. It’s not that I have anything against pants, I just like my own skin. As I’ve said before, I was born naked and I’ll die naked dammit! While most of the country is on one side of the debate over the right to bear arms, I stand proudly on no side, baring my arms, legs, and hiney because that’s what the founding mother (of nature) has written into earth’s constitution. I don’t want everyone who reads this to assume I’m a crazy nudist, all I’m saying is it’s good to feel the breeze above the knees.

I do caution readers that nudity is not always appropriate, like when Pat the custodian is cleaning the second floor bathroom. I woke up, with underwear, and I checked out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. I noticed the mop and bucket and knew there was a fifty fifty chance of Pat either cleaning the bathroom or the shower. I’m a risk taker and often that gets me into these situations, but I did not have time to waste: I needed to fill up my coffee maker with water so I could start the day. But of course, as soon as I step into the bathroom, precious Pat is there to greet me. I blushed, covered my naughty bits as best I could and asked, “How was your break? Oh, Good, mine was too. Well, best get going seeing as how I’m naked and you’re a lady and whatnot. Talk to ya later.”  Here’s a personal list of places where you ought to think twice, before walking around like it’s the Garden of Eden.

Cemeteries. At least during the day. As is western custom, you have to wear a suit before you can be lowered into the earth for all eternity. Even though no one will say anything to you, you might feel a little out of place (along with everyone else wearing clothes, there’s also the possibility that they are all dead as well; so, showing up to the party both alive and naked is a sure-fire way to look like an outcast, trust me). Art Galleries. Unless you are made of marble, or a two-dimensional piece hanging on a wall, clothes are mandatory. Besides, do you really want an art critic comparing you to Michelangelo’s David? Lazer Tag. There is simply too much hassle in this situation. You would have to take off your clothes first, and then put on a one size fits all vest made of itchy fabric and velcro harnesses–that’s just not safe people. Lastly, this is a guaranteed  way to ruin a 12 year old’s birthday party.

Hope this helps,


About Carl Sonnefeld

I am a freshman at Wabash College. I have 1 mom and 1 dad, 1 brother, and 4 dogs. I enjoy football, snowboarding, talking to men and/or women. Ray Charles is my favorite musician but I enjoy all things groovy. Happiness is a matter of fresh the coffee is and how pleated my slacks are. I am a twit @Cmoneytangmasta
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