Today is NATIONAL GET OUT OF THE DOGHOUSE DAY. ***MARLAR: A popular day with married men.
Today is DISNEYLAND DAY. America’s first theme park opened on this date in 1955 at Anaheim, California. ***MARLAR: I’ve never been. I never really cared for amusement parks. Hamburgers the price of two gallons of gas, the sun frying me to a crisp, and standing in line for an hour and a half in order to ride a roller-coaster for sixty seconds. No thanks.
This is CAPTIVE NATIONS WEEK. ***MARLAR: The ironic thing is that, if you happen to be in a captive nation, you probably will never know your nation is a captive nation and won’t be celebrating Captive Nations Week because, well, you’re in a captive nation and they’d never admit to being a captive nation.
Today is WEAR CRAZY SOCKS TO WORK DAY. ***MARLAR: I used to love crazy socks – but I don’t own any now. I’d like to think it’s because I’ve matured a bit, but the truth is that Robin threw all of my Looney Tunes socks into the trash when she found out I wore Daffy Duck socks during our wedding ceremony. No, I’m not kidding – I really did that.
Today is “Wear Crazy Socks To Work Day.”
Immediately I feel it’s something I should get behind and promote on the show, but I realize that I myself am not able to celebrate such a glorious holiday. It’s not that we have rules at the radio station against crazy clothing or anything – heck, if that were the case we’d have to lynch half the sales staff for showing up in those blinding ties. No, it has nothing to do with any kind of dress code.
The fact of the matter is that I have no crazy socks. I guess I could show up with NO socks, but that doesn’t really fit the spirit of the occasion. I used to have crazy socks though… but that was thirteen years ago.
Fourteen years ago last March, to be precise. I know exactly when my crazy socks disappeared because it coincided with an important event in my life. My wedding day.
My job for the wedding was simple. Show up on time, and be sure to wear black socks. Now, while I did hold to the letter of the law that was passed down to me from my bride-to-be, I did not follow the spirit of said law.
Just before the wedding my bride asked me to lift my pant legs so she could be sure I was wearing the black socks. I did, she saw that I had followed her decree, and she was happy.
Three minutes later when she left the room before the wedding ceremony, I peeled off my top layer of black socks to reveal the black Daffy Duck socks underneath… all with video camera recording so when forced to watch our wedding ceremony again later that evening (which I knew was going to happen – and I was dreading it) at least we’d have something to laugh about.
Fast forward six hours to the hotel room. The wine has been poured, the whirlpool bath is whirling, the lights are down low, and using the remote control in her hands, Robin selects “PLAY” on the VCR. (Yes, we’ve been married for just six hours and already she has control over the remote… my manhood is gone.)
My Daffy Duck socks disappeared the next day. As did my Yosemite Sam socks, my Daffy Duck socks, and my Marvin the Martian socks.
Oh well, I had to mature eventually.