I'm heading home next week to Michigan to see my family and a few select friends (sorry, I won't get to see everyone. I'm a hot commodity from Hollywood now. Not really but I like to think so). I'm really excited about that because I've barely seen my family since I moved to California back in April and haven't seen most of my friends since than either.
In preparation for my sojourn I'm beginning to think about what I'm going to pack seeing as I want to pack light. My goal is to only have my rollerboard and computer bag for the trip and I'm fairly confident I can pull that off. I'm trying to limit myself to basics like jeans, socks, underwear and sweatshirts and comfy shoes. After all the people I'm going to see already know and (for the most part) love me. I don't have a need to impress them (Cherie I might try to. After all, I'm going to convince her to marry me one day).
One of the items I am debating whether or not to bring is my Nipple Shirt. Yes. I'm highly considering bringing my nipple shirt back to Michigan with me. I assume that most of you know what my nipple shirt looks like or have seen some pictures of me in it. Some have had the true fortune of seeing it in person.
My family hates this shirt though. My parents are truly appalled by the fact I would even find it remotely humorous to wear it. Clearly they zone out when I am shooting my mouth off 95% of the time. This shirt is right up my alley in terms of character, spirit and enjoyment of life.
The biggest fan of this shirt is my Brother-in-Law, Tom. He's really proud of the fact that I wear this shirt with conviction and any lack of respect for myself and those closest to me. For him, I've had two shining moments with that T-shirt.
The first one was his introduction to it when I wore it to his and my older sister Sara's Halloween party a year ago. I was dressed as Maverick from "Top Gun," had the leather flight jacket, aviators and bravado down. I whipped off the jacket and BOOM! Two nipples staring at everyone through a white t-shirt. Sara lowered her head in shame, Tom poured me a shot of tequila.
The second moment of glory was in a Saturday MMA class. I was a little hungover from a wild night before and wasn't taking the class too seriously. I was fighting with a 16 year old kid who was beating me (like I said, I was a little hungover) and I decided that I needed to loosen up a bit and gain a mental advantage. I whipped off my top t-shirt and threw my dukes back up right away. I fought the kid for a couple seconds then stepped back and told him to try and hit me. I spread my arms out to the side a la Vin Diesel in "the Fast and the Furious" and there my nipples were again staring the kid dead in the eye. Needless to say the fight stopped because he was laughing too much.
Later that night I still had the shirt on from class and was at dinner with my family and Dave Stella when Tom let out how I wore the shirt in class. Until that time my parents had no idea about the shirt and I'd managed to save them from some minor disappointment in what I find funny. The cat was out of the bag and I decided to face them with what the nipple shirt was and showed them how despite their best efforts I had a few "personality aspects" that would be deemed by the general population to be socially unacceptable.
Getting back to what I started out writing I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to bring that shirt and all the memories that come with it back to Michigan. I don't know if my little sister, Stephanie, has ever seen it. I know she's already disappointed in the fact that I have it. Maybe I should bring it back just so she can get all the facts and make her judgements after seeing it?
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