I've been looking for a place to tell this, and while it doesn't really fit exactly, it IS about socks, and so it goes here.
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Mr. Joe returns from physiotherapy and tells me that the therapist insisted he show me something as soon as he got home.
Grand production. Drum roll.
He sits down, and with what I presume is supposed to be boyish impish charm; shows me the bottoms of his feet.
Yes. There are big, gapping holes in the bottom of his socks. The
holes are held together with tiny bits of thread. Ridiculous. Beyond silly.
“Listen carefully,” I said, leaning forward in my chair.
“I want you to tell her something for me, ok? You might not know this either so listen up. I want you to look her in the eye…and tell her that
I said:
They do sell socks to men, ok?”
I will never buy that man a pair of socks again. Ever.
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I'm wearing white cotton ankle socks at the moment.