Seems like almost every blouse, t-shirt, Daisy Duke’s (LOL) all have some sort of food or drink story to them…
I was taught proper etiquette and table manners…WTF?!
Why can’t I seem to line up the fork with the mouth or the glass to the lips?
Any of you out there, carry a Tide Pen around with you too?
I think my son is actually your son. I’ll send you the bill for the past 16 years of cleaning. No bitcoin or trading stamps…
Just last night, he was eating a sandwich and as he went to take a bite (he didn’t even bite it yet), a piece of tomato shot out and landed on the elbow of the sleeve of his brand new shirt. I was sitting next to him - some of the juice from the sandwich caught me on the chest - collateral damage in the war against clumsiness.
I just wear the stain as a badge of honor . Plenty of shirts ruined from red wine stains . I talk to much and don’t pay attention to what I’m doing.
Has a tinge of the grassy knoll conspiracy…
As a Virgo, who likes my crisp white cotton shirts, while going out, I just can’t believe at the end of the night, all the little stains that have found there way to me.
Being a gregarious soul, I think we are more apt to spillage, since we’re an animated bunch…
Plus, I’m a sauce chick that loves extra dressing, mayo, et al, that seems to find its way to my clothes…
Maybe black is my new friend…awww screw it!
This is why I eat in the nude.
Gag response. You don’t want my son next to you when he’s eating hot soup or handling the cutlery.
“Seinfeld,” season 3, episodes 17 & 18!!
Old, but related, story:
According to later legend, the vineyards are dedicated to white grape varieties because the emperor’s wife preferred white wines as they did not stain his beard.
One of the first kind-of-aloha shirts I bought has a very crowded paisley pattern in mostly reds and browns. We instantly dubbed it my Eatin’ Shirt – I could lie down in a big bowl of spaghetti with sauce and it wouldn’t show! I do have a poor track record with tomato sauces and red wine, and am incapable of eating a hard-shell taco without its exploding.
Mrs. O insists on obliterating any visible stain on my shirts. However, she has not that power over my aprons (unless I’m going to wear it in front of dinner guests), so it is on those that I carry the tale of my toils. And too much fun with a tasting spoon.
I love my Reyn Spooner shirts and vintage Hawaiian shirts but the cut is more masculine but it does hide quite well the food and drink that seems to miss my 