My 90-year old Grandma mailed me a homemade vest for me to wear “to parties.” It’s… amazing.
okay inagardenbythesea, you listen to me. i can tell by ur beard & by the position of saturn that you are a good person who gets invited to a lot of parties. i’m sure you’re very fun at them. i’m sure you never bring bullshit snacks, like celery. celery? no. not you. you would never bring that crunchy foot water bullshit to parties. you’re bringing cool ranch doritos that u made with ur own hands. you brought a dish inexplicably shaped like the idea of an island that’s filled with edible cookie dough. when you order chips for the table at chipotle, you ask for quac. “I know it’s extra,” you say. flashing a smile at your companions. “this one’s on me, guys.”
because you are that Good Person, i need you to wear this vest to 90 parties, inagardenbythesea. 90 of them. and i need you to take a picture of yourself at every one, surrounded by friends or strangers u will later claim to be friends, or maybe the cops at that one party that got kind of out of hand, or maybe just a bunch of people at a 7/11 you’ve arranged to look like Your Friend Group. send all of these pictures to your grandmother, as you take them.
“look at my grandkid, Bearded McButtondown,” your grandma will tell her friends. “check out this hella fresh vest i made him. he loves it! he juuuuuust loves it.”
