Keep it Casual

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54) and as young as my sister (20) in a month.
Mission 2. Live a completely gay lifestyle (without the gay sex) for a month.
Mission Three: Live without an apartment for a month.
Mission Four: Reconnect.
Mission Five: Re-take the SATs.
Mission Five: Become a PUA (Pick Up Artist) and wing Cali to 5 F-closes.

Something happened this morning that validated me to the very core. It made me feel like the man my father always wanted me to be. I was strong and decisive. I was full. Like a real man, the one Joe Jackson sang about. And it happened with just an 8 a.m. phone call.

“Rob, you’ve gotta TiVo Oprah today,” said the voice on the line.

Now, having a friend tell you to TiVo Oprah may not seem like much of an approval of machodom. But I attached myself more to the subtext. Here was a guy that didn’t assume I already had a season pass. He came from the mindset that I never watched Oprah (which I don’t) and that was cool.

The impetus of the call centered around a special guest, a guy who was living in the gay community for 30 days. Sound familiar? My friend was a bit pissed by this, but I didn’t care. Plus I later learned he was a religious conservative who took a confrontational approach to his mission. I was just trying to fit into 30 inch-waist jean cutoffs. My 30 days were much less cerebral. And probably way more fun.

Back to the phone call. Have you ever gotten one that fucking early on a workday? It displaces your whole frame of reference for the entire day. It came from my friend Jesse from San Fran, and in addition to telling me about Oprah, we discussed an upcoming bachelor party we're all attending in Vegas.

Now Jesse has an escape clause that disables him from getting shit for knowing Oprah’s guest line up. His brother is the handsome and talented Nate who frequents the show as her designer. Now, his image greats me everytime I enter Linens n Things, complete with 20% off mailer in hand.

That, I can give him shit for. And believe me, I do.

The bachelor party is in early April. I’m such a terrible planner so I'm making Jim take care of the rooms and I just forget about it. But Jesse needs to know every detail upfront, and I could not offer any at 8 am.

“Call Jim, then” he said, berating me about the hotel.

“He’s working,” I answered.

“Then call his assistant,” he said, oblivious that if Jim was working, his PA was working too.

“You call him, Jeff’s already pissed at me for something, I’m not sure what.” I said and gave him the phone number.

Moving on.

Today I had brought back something out of hibernation. I call it Casual Tie Day (CTD) and hope America can embrace the idea.

Every Thursday, in preparation for casual Friday, I challenge corporate America to shake up their fashion by pairing a tie and shirt with a pair of jeans or a sweatshirt. Its casualwear with the addition of a tie. Pretty easy to get your head around, right?

I’ve been pretty nebulous about where I work because I don’t want to be judged based on your opinion of my vocation. Plus, I don't want my co-workers finding out about my sexual indiscretions. But I will tell you this: I rarely wear a tie to work, except on CTD.

Today, it is only me wearing the tie, enjoying CTD. Over the summer, I had collected a force of 20 to do it, including a few girls. But right now, it is my solo mission. I am flying high in a gap sweatshirt with rep tie blowing in the wind.

Happy Casual Tie Day.