The Groutfit

Pardon me, but I'm afraid you have yet to be formally introduced to my good friend, and dare I say lover, the Groutfit. Yes, you heard me correctly. An outfit inspired by none other than the rubbery material composed of sand, water, cement and a dash of fine gravel of which is essential to our daily being in dutiful appreciation of the masterful tile work of our forefathers and their handy foreign contractors.

Truly it's an honor.

 I'm on the grey on grey on grey on grey ish and I love it. Who needs inspecific clothing crafted in a variety of peculiar names, like "Tickle Me Tangerine" or "Be My Bay-B Blue" when you can just wear grey. One color. That is all. Grey.

Its really quite flattering. You see, the fashion world seems sooo caught up on all white erry night, how bout we throw a wrench in their one-toned tool shed with a little bit of all grey everyday.

You see me rhyming and stuff, deserving of maybe even of a conceded swagologist emoji?

I lied. Groutfits,groufts are no fun unless paired with a single pop-o-color,of which would ultimately be much appreciated. That's totally on point though, pops of color are always fun especially if they are strategically placed on your nethermost extremities venturing toward the Equator, or maybe even the good old South Pole depending on your geographic location.

On your feets, duh.

Huzaah for Nike, and its everlasting partner in crime: obnoxiously tasteful neon. Of which should be noted in their ability to almost make me want to rejoin America in recommitting to New Year's promises and a "newer" life inclined toward regularly intensified physicality in order to better our health and therefore our lives. Gotcha on that one Amurica.

Raise your hand if your $34 premium LA Fitness membership is going to waste.

Come on, don't be shy.

To top it all of, I'm wearing a blazer, on my waist may I add, to make it all add up–as if it didn't already silly. Is it wrong to place such a unanimously high profiled and unsarcastically profesh garment on ones hips?

No, my dears. It's called versatility, a reoccurring  theme in this here blog as it  uniformly concurs with my wears. I call it Court Date Casual. Explanation provided below.

Senario: I've just endured 5 hours of court after a cvil suit was filed against me for illegally installing a high powered water jet jacuzzi in my front yard (cue: pinstripe blazer). I'm weary, for obvious reasons, and decide to go on a run to clear my head with a well-paced 5k jog. During my refressing sprint-stroll, I am alarmed to the abrupt interruption of jam sesh to Cyrus's We Can't Stop with a warning "you must stop because your supposed to see Despicable Me 2 with you BFFL at the palladium in 15 minutos" (cue: messy bun and uber-messy blazer tied around the small of your waist)

Tah Dah.

Versatility, I tell you. Versatility!