My awesome green cephalopocalypse shirt didn’t go through the wash, so I’m not wearing it yet. I like to wash newly-printed shirts before I wear them. That makes them softer and nicer.
Marty struts in wearing his. I glower at him for forgetting to put mine in the wash, too. I am intensely jealous of his green biohazard-ness.
Marty: “I’m wearing my t-shirt. Why aren’t you wearing your t-shirt?” He plants his fists on his hips and juts out his chest, like Captain Hammer. And he promptly answers his own question: “Because you’re too fussy!”
I give out a righteous and indignant gasp.
Marty deflates, immediately conceding defeat. “Okay, because you have standards…”
Story of my life!
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