Cotton candy for the lady ...

This T-shirt -- Laura’s favourite (on me, not her) -- reminds me of a major problem solved.
What in heck do you wear on a first date?
No, not just a first date, the flutters in waters said, the first date.
Since I met Laura Lambert at that party , I didn’t ever want another first date.
So it had to go well, which meant I had to choose my shirt wisely.
No stains or crinkles, but not over-ironed ... just an effortlessly understated statement.
Crud.
It was March in Batemans Bay, which meant the weather was awesome and warm, so it had to be shorts and T-shirt.
Wear pants and sleeves and she’d think I’m an Emo, or worse, a Mormon.

"So which shirt?’’ I asked the laundry basket.

Not one I’d worn on any date before (which eliminated about one from the pile), and not one that was dirty (which, sadly, ruled out plenty more than the aforementioned).

Hmmm -- gotta be a band shirt.
But which band? Choose wrongly, and the implications were ugly.

AC/DC = Bogan.
John Butler Trio = Hemp lovin’ hippie.
Jimmy Eat World = Emo cutter.
Green Day = Pre-pubescent emo cutter.
Butterfly Effect = Keep away from sharp objects.
Bad Religion = To impress the Minister’s daughter? Idiot, Ben!

The pile of discards grew large on my bed.

(For the record: I love these bands. Just giving you a look inside the panicked mind of a boy faced with the terrifying prospect of going on a date with a gorgeous girl.)

Then it hit me. The Streets tee. Pale blue with palm trees.

Peace was declared in the Middle East of my mind and everything the horizon touched turned golden.

I bought that shirt at a Big Day Out with Zeb because I kinda liked the band, just not enough to actually go see their live set, so I got the shirt, instead.

It was still a dicey call. I only really knew about one of their songs ... (``Your fit, my God, but don’t you know it ...’’), and if Laura ended being a fan and wanted to trade trivia, I’d be sunk.

But she wasn’t. Aces!

We ate fish on the floating jetty on the Tuross River ... sat on the bank a while, and ... um, while there is still some conjecture as to who actually kissed who first (it was so her), the main point is this.

We did kiss, it rocked -- still does, matter of fact -- and in no small part, I owe thanks to that 35-dollar cotton tee.
(Either that, or my legendary ability to generate affection out of pity.)

Love you Laura. So glad you dug the shirt.
B --

My heart on my sleeve (or sleeves)...

T-shirts.
I don't ever want to meet the person who doesn't love them.
Laura, bless her, reckons I have too many. So does Mum, now I think of it, as does Dad, and probably Jason, too.
They're wrong.
Dead wrong.

My shirts are my children. (Well, almost…)
No matter how old, stained, moth-eaten, I can't throw them out.

And why should I? After all, they have been very good to me.

The photo above is a slice-and-dice of almost forty of the tees that mean just that little bit more than the rest of the threads that have graced my kinda girlie shoulders in recent times.

They aren't necessarily my All-Time All-Stars … there may not be my grandfather's PMG work shirt I wear most Friday's to the paper; there's not the first band shirt my brother Jason presented to me when he came back from his first rock concert -- a sweaty black Screaming Jets number; or that Star Wars shirt I wore the first time I was kissed, or that blue The Streets shirt I wore that first date with Laura on the shores of One Tree Point, Tuross, NSW, the place where Laura and I had our first date, and I knew then that it'd be my last ever, first kiss.

(Actually – I've bent the rules a bit to include that tee …)

The shirts you'll meet in the next few weeks are my daily drivers.

Billboards to my soul. Comic books, cartoons, music and TV shows.

And triggers to awesome memories.
Laura.
Family.
Friends.
Batemans Bay.
Big Day Outs.
The finer of life moments.

Life is good, and so is cotton.

B--

Laura susses the competition ... (and realises there is NO competition...)

Hey all. Been way to long between drinks. Sorry -- but hopefully these delightful pics of Laura being bested by the (not-as-cool) Mercury's spot-the-difference will appease you. (See: cool)
It's been so long because between posts because I've only really wanted to post stuff I really liked, and what happened initially with this page was that I thought it'd be awesome to make a blog that was about cameras, photos, stuff, hopes, dreams, ambitions, veiled threats ... et all ... it goes on ... you devour it all, beer pours from the heavens, it's loved by all.
Wrong.
Lame.
Skip it.

Let's get a bit passionate, baby -- you're going to see what I wear on my sleeve from now on.

I promise. Literally.

Don't believe me? Stay tuned and see.

B --