Posts Tagged ‘Fashion’

Here’s the deal. I just returned from my weekly trip to Las Vegas. Sure, it’s a four hour drive, but the casinos are really hurting financially and I just want to do my fair share and chip in. Of course, we all know that Sin City has all of the drinking, gambling and adult entertainment a fellow can handle. But did you know that Las Vegas is the Women Walking Around Barefoot and Carrying High Heels Capital of the World?

That’s right, you can’t go five minutes in a casino without seeing a woman pass by shoeless…except for the heels she holds in her hands. They tend to travel in packs and it’s a phenomenon I simply don’t understand. Are they so proud of their footwear that they want to display them at a height nearer to eye level? Do these same women, not entirely clear on garment placement, spend hours trying to fit their feet into their gloves? Or (and I understand that this is clearly the most likely scenario) do they put on glamorous yet really uncomfortable shoes and walk around in them for about eight minutes before realizing that their glamorous shoes are really uncomfortable and would be equally glamorous and far more comfortable if they carried them around in their hands?

To further understand what’s going on here (and pad a content-lacking post) let’s take a look at the history of high heels. According to Wikipedia, “In ancient Egypt…murals dating from 3500 B.C. depict an early version of…both upper-class males and females wearing heels.” Wow. High heels have been around a long time. Then again, Wikipedia has also reported that David Beckham was an athlete…in China in the 18th century. They’ve claimed that Plato was a Hawaiian weatherman and surfer. And their site clearly states that Pauly Shore has starred in thirty-one movies….what? Pauly Shore has starred in thirty-one movies? Forget the women carrying around their shoes, this is the real problem.

Regardless of how many film sets Mr. Shore has snuck onto, and whether or not high heels are thousands of years old (and even if these murals depicted individuals walking like an Egyptian in high heels, I bet there’s a mural next to it that shows these same noblewoman, drink in hand, trudging through the Luxor carrying those shoes on her way to the next slot machine) we have a real issue to address with these unshod gamblers.

I don’t understand why these women can’t keep their shoes on. With the exception of foot pain, increased likelihood of sprains and fractures, an unsteady gait, stress on the knee joint, a shortened Achilles tendon, lower back pain, blisters, bunions, hammer toes, corns, and plantar fasciitis, high heels are the best.

Really, women of Las Vegas, you need to make a choice here. Because, believe me, those casino floors you’re walking across barefoot aren’t nearly as clean as you might imagine. Unless you want what happens in Vegas to stay on your feet, we’ve got some tough decisions to make. Comfort or style. Because walking barefoot and inebriated whilst carrying your heels doesn’t look as good as you’re imagining it. I suggest you pick some shoes that you can wear for more than half an hour.

Or start wearing really uncomfortable shirts.


Here’s the deal. I’m no fan of orange. I am, of course, referring to the color, not the fruit. Oranges are delicious. So delicious, that the color tried to jump on the bandwagon. You see, the color is named after the fruit, not, as many assume, the other way around. This lame color was previously called geoluread. Pretty, huh? Then, thief that it is, orange stole its name from one of our favorite fruits. It’s despicable.

And it’s a shame, because orange has good ingredients. Yellow? It’s good. Red? Even better. But put them together and you get the blandest, least interesting color around.

Derived from File:Color_icon_orange.svg, this ...

Every variety of bleh.

I’ve got so many issues with orange. For starters, it occurs in the visible spectrum at a wavelength of about 590-620 nanometers. I have no idea what this means, but it sound pretty pretentious. “Oh, look at me, occurring at 605 nanometers, I’m so cool, I’m so visible at a certain wavelength, check me out, I’m orange.”

And what exactly does orange stand for? Most colors evoke emotions. We all know what it’s like to be tickled pink, to be green with envy or to see red, but have you ever been feeling orange? Of course not. Orange is a cold, hard color. It has no feelings.

And most colors are symbols for universally recognizable ideas. We all know what it to live green. We know what a gray area is. And everyone knows what it means to wave a white flag. What has orange got? Oh yeah, it’s the national color of the Netherlands. Fantastic. What was the land of Nether thinking? Of all the colors in the world…

Orange does have one thing. Those orange construction cones. So orange symbolizes inconvenience and long delays and potential danger. Way to go, orange. Another winner.

If you still don’t believe me, consider this. When a member of our society commits a terrible crime, they are sent away to live in a tiny cell. And then, their final punishment, they are forced to wear orange jump suits. Oh, there’s a reason those outfits aren’t blue or silver. They’re being punished by being forced to wear the worst color from head to toe. Cruel and unusual? You betcha.

I say it’s time we start only eating those funky, purple-colored carrots. I say it’s time we boycott the Netherlands until they reconsider the whole orange thing. I say we should only produce those cool, red, white and blue, Harlem Globetrotter’s basketballs. And we should also start playing that “Sweet Georgia Brown” song more often. It’s unrelated. That’s just a really cool song.

Here’s the deal. The time has come for the third in my three part series, “Makya McBee Changes the Focus of His Blog to Expose More People to His Blog and Save the World.” It’s been quite a journey. And it’s been wildly rewarding to discover how many topics there are that I know so very little about.

One such topic is getting a job. I do not have a job. I do not know how to get a job. I’m not entirely sure what a job is.

That being said, I’m going to dive right in and divulge my secrets to getting your dream job.

Deutsch: Die Blue Man Group im Foyer des Theat...

They must get all the good jobs.

(1)   Dress for success. I have made a lot of mistakes in this area. Here’s what I’ve learned. (a) No matter how cute your mom says you look in a poncho, most prospective employers will not agree. (b) While wearing a sophisticated wrist watch is classy, somehow wearing eight sophisticated wrist watches just comes off as crazy. (c) Always wear shoes…socks are great, but they’re just not enough. (d) Studies indicate that blue is the best interview color, but those same studies failed to inform me that blue hair dye is frowned upon. (e) A suit of armor conveys strength but often rouses the suspicion of security. (f) Apparently a kimono is a kino-no…save it for casual Friday. (g) And I can’t stress this last one enough – while the process may take longer than expected, edible undies are not an acceptable mid-interview snack.

(2)   Do other things to help you get a job. For example, create the perfect resume. Again, learn from my mistakes. An increased font size is not a substitute for experience, that 64 Times New Roman stands out in a bad way. And, while saving paper is important, never print your resume on the back of your latest restraining order.

(3)   Utilize online resources. Long gone are the days of hoofing it from business to business. Now you can simply type your job specifics into your local, friendly job search engine and let them do all the work for you.

I, for example, have begun to accept that I may never land my ideal job. So I went on to to see how many less desirable positions might be available…

Frankly, I’m shocked. That’s a nationwide search of lousy and tedious jobs. I have an inkling these results might be on the low side.

Next, I decided to search for the type of jobs I’d excel at. I considered my plethora of life experiences and searched for an employment opportunity that would best match my skill set…

I guess there’s hope after all. And, while I pride myself on keeping this blog PG-13, the thirteen year-old in me couldn’t resist…

What? I’m considering becoming a glassblower. At this point, I’m willing to consider almost anything. And big bonus if I can wear my poncho.

Here’s the deal.  Fruit of the Loom has one of the oldest (created in 1893) and most recognizable logos in the world.  And, in the past decade, they’ve brought this logo to life with a quartet of actors dressed in oversized fruit costumes.  I have a very specific issue here – not with the logo itself, but with just one fourth of this fruity bunch.

My problem is with the guy on the far right.  My first, and most obvious problem, what the hell is he?  He looks like wilted lettuce.  But that’s not a fruit.  He could be parsley.  Again, more of a garnish than a fruit.  Spinach?  Kale?  Arugula?  What is this stuff?

I did a little research and Fruit of the Loom refers to this stuff simply as “leaves.”  This does not make me happy.  This company had a world of brightly colored, unusually shaped fruits to choose from and these are the four they chose?  It’s pretty pathetic.  I wonder what that meeting was like?

“Okay, boys, fruit logo – what have you got?”


“Apple.  Good.  That’s definitely a fruit.  Everyone recognizes apples.   Nicely done, Johnson.”

“How about grapes?”

“Grapes.  That’ll work.  I like that.  Now we’re rolling. Anybody else?”

“Hmmm, how about grapes?”

“I think someone already said that…let me just check my list…apple…grapes…yep, we have grapes already.  But I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Wait, what about different colored grapes?”

“Interesting.  Do grapes come in different colors?  We’ll have to do some research.  But I like that.  So now we’ve got apple, grapes and grapes.  Let’s see if we can get one more fruit.”

“I’ve got it – leaves.”

“Leaves?  Nice.  Wait, are leaves a fruit?  I don’t think leaves are fruit.”

“It’s almost five o’clock.”

“Really?  Okay, fine – we’ll put in leaves.  Great job, everybody.”

Actually, the Fruit of the Loom people list the five components of their logo as: apple, purple grapes, green grapes, currants and leaves.  The currants, however, are not featured in the commercials.  Maybe because nobody says currant anymore.  Paradoxically, currants aren’t current enough.

Regardless, I think they’re wasting valuable underwear real estate and commercial air time with those damn leaves.

So, how am I going to do it?   How will I get rid of the foliage and refocus Fruit of the Loom on the fruit of the loom?  I think I need an ally.  A celebrity to adopt my cause.  And only one man can help me – Wayne Wilderson.

When I see Wayne, I think of his multi-episode arcs on Seinfeld and The Office…but you probably know him as the purple grapes.  Yes, he appears to be the only actor with a non-fruit career working on these spots.  He’s the pro.  He’s the guy we need on our side.  Working from the inside, he can help the leaves leave.  I’ve got a lot on my plate already without adding fruit.  I think I’m going to pass this one off to Wayne.  Yes, we have a legitimate complaint.  But nobody is going to listen to us moan about it.  Besides, who better than the grapes to make a fine whine?

Here’s the deal.  Men’s clothing uses a highly advanced algorithm…the size of an article of clothing = the number of inches the clothing measures.  Women’s clothing uses an even trickier concept…the size of an article of clothing = some random number pulled out of a hat (and don’t get me started on the size of the hat). 

And women’s clothing sizes don’t even match from store to store.  Sally could be a size 6 at Nordstrom and a size 10 at Banana Republic.  Could be quite a Gap.  When it comes to sizing, she might have to Guess.  And I’m open to suggestions for a third women’s clothing related pun here, please write your entry on a 3” by 5” postcard and mail to: Women’s Clothing Related Pun Contest, P.O. Box 843, New York, NY 10012 – no purchase necessary. 

So, what’s up with size zero?  (And don’t get me started on size double zero…or hat sizes).  It’s called vanity sizing, the designers keep lowering the sizes so that shoppers will feel better about their number – but where is it heading?  At what point does it get absurd?  Size absolute zero?  Size negative seven?  Size who must not be named?

Are women so concerned about their number that they want to be a size nothing?  “Yes, I’m a size zilch.  I wear a nil.  My measurements do not exist.”  We need to put an end to this women’s clothing downsizing brouhaha (speaking of which, my brother-in-law and I are considering opening a tavern that features homemade ale and nightly stand-up comedy…we’ll call it the Brew Ha Ha).

Of course, the bigger problem with wanting to be smaller – these women do not look good.  I’m attracted to women who look healthy – not overweight, not underweight.  I, for one, would not want to date someone who could hide behind a single bamboo stalk.  I don’t want to be able to count your ribs from across the room.  I want a gal who eats three square meals a day (don’t get me started on triangular meals….or size double zero…or hat sizes). 

Here’s the skinny on the skinny – viewing the emaciated as attractive is a relatively new trend.  How did this happen to us?  Remember when they airbrushed Kate Winslet against her will?  She didn’t need to be airbrushed.  If the Titanic version of Kate is what we’re going to refer to as “full figured” – then sign me up.  She can join me for a sketch session on an ill-fated cruise any day of the week. 

So, how am I going to do it?   How will I put an end to size zero?  I’m doing what I can – I carry a few extra pounds as a role model to the ladies.  And Victoria Beckham is doing her part – banning size zero models from her runway shows as they are too thin.  (From the first time I heard the Spice Girls singing about what they want, what they really, really want…I knew these chicks were alright).  And the third key to solving this problem…will be drawn randomly from all entries in the Choose the Third Key to Eradicating Size Zero Contest.  One entry per household.  Employees of Makya McBee Vs. and their immediate family members are not eligible.  All participants must be at least 18 years of age and at least a size 4.

Mitch Hedberg

Image via Wikipedia

    Here’s the deal.  I don’t like turtlenecks.  I find them very constricting.  For the same reason, I don’t wear rings, or watches, or bind myself with rubber bands.  I like elastic, shoes that are one size too big and any piece of clothing that flows.  One of my favorite stand-up comics and fellow turtleneckaphobe may have put it best…

    “Wearing a turtleneck is like being strangled by a really weak guy, all day long,” Mitch Hedberg.

    I also don’t much care for the way they look.  If you wear a turtleneck it looks like a fabric python is swallowing you whole and only your cranium remains undigested.  I will say that the turtleneck looks better on women than men…but, then again, what doesn’t?  (How is it fair that women look better in both their clothes and ours?  It’s very discouraging).

    And how is it that turtlenecks have remained popular lo these many years?  We’re talking about an article of clothing that blatantly tries to make you look more like a turtle.  When, in the history of humanity, has one human being ever turned to another and said, “I wish I looked more like a turtle…specifically in the neck area.” 

Unfolded turtleneck

Image via Wikipedia


    Plus, I can’t quite get away from the image that a turtleneck wearer projects.  Especially the hefty, turtleneck sweaters.  I just feel like that guy is about to stir his hot cider with a stick of cinnamon, turn up the jazz fusion, aimlessly adjust the logs in the fire, and note how a couple of throw pillows might really brighten up the cabin.   

    I mean, there is such a thing as too cozy.  

    So, how am I going to do it?   How will I defeat this confounding, confining clothing?  One word – scissors.

   Maybe I can even make some money off the deal.  Leg warmers were all the rage in the 80’s.  Maybe if I start severing every turtleneck I encounter, I can sell the remnants as neck warmers.  This could be big.  Snuggie big.  Of course, my neck warmers will be just as choking as they were when attached to the sweater.  But at least this way I can make a buck.  Heck, if everyone else secretly wants to look more like our reptilian friends, maybe I’ll even expand my business… 

    Terrapinstripe suit, anyone?