Here at GBA we have a pretty strict dress code. We figure professionalism can be accentuated with a crisp uniform. It just lends to ones credibility.
But, not too long ago a bunch of us decided to head on up to the Strand Twin Theater to enlighten our senses, gain some culture, and learn a little bit about ourselves. As Nik and I were getting ready for this grand event she walked into me putting on my sweet new NASA “t” shirt. She long ago gave up on my life/clothing choices, rolled her eyes, and me and off we went. Nik always looks good. Seeing Lindsy and Karen in their ever-present fashion sense at the cinema door let doubt creep in… right until I saw Pilot Matt in a solid brown Wolverine “t”. Crisis averted. On with the show.
Thor won in the end and got the girl. Carry the big hammer; wear quasi-medieval armor and smash stuff as deemed necessary. Lesson learned.
For reasons known only to them did Nik and Karen marry Matt and I? However, one poignant point was made perfectly clear. Guys are okay too. We just think a little differently.
Like the time the house wide search for the dead creature rotting in our house that ended with my very ordinary, animal free hockey bag, or the fact that we gather in large numbers in such social areas as the bowels of the BOCC (Bobby Orr Community Center) during hockey season or Parry Sound Golf and Country Club during non hockey season. Commonly referred to black fly/mosquito/when is it ever going to not rain on two weekends in a row season.
Riggs had Murtagh (Lethal Weapon reference) and a very solid mullet, Simon has Garfunkle (music reference)and I have the Ice Hogs (my fantastically average hockey club). We are guys doing guy things. A blind eye to the odd odor is in the job description.