I felt the fear pump through my veins when I realized I was going to be forced to be seen in the outfit pictured above.  Here's the story behind it.

My House of Cards marathon was in full effect last night when my wife asked me to bring our daughter to guitar lessons.  I had already changed into my pajamas, but the drop off is an easy one.  There's never a need to get out of the car.  I just pull up, and she runs into the Onset home of local musician, Grace Morrison.  I was triumphantly lounging in my best red checkered flannel pajamas in my car, listening to the end of the Nancy Hall show on Fun 107, when I got the call.  My son had his cast taken off the day before, and his foot was hurting.  He needed Tylenol...and I had to bring some home.

No problem, we'll pass by a 7-11 on the way home, my daughter can run inside, get the Tylenol and a quart of Brigham's chocolate ice cream (for good measure).  "What if they won't sell the Tylenol to a 12-year-old kid?" my sage daughter asked.  I started to get nervous as this scenario played out in my head.  Man, that would stink.  What if they really wouldn't give her the medicine.  It wasn't an outrageous thought, and I started to get nervous.

My fear went into overdrive when I saw my daughter walking back outside without the goods.  "They need you to sign the credit card.  They won't let me sign it."  Are you KIDDING ME????  I'm really going to have to get out of the car wearing this outfit?  I mean, I looked ridiculous.  I waited til the coast was clear, and I ran in to sign.  I wish I could tell you I escaped, but instead, the worst case scenario played out.  A mom and her two kids came inside and looked at me as I was coming out.  "Hey, you're Michael Rock, aren't you?"  said the mom.

I nodded yes.

"We listen every morning," she said.  "Say hi to Michael, boys!"

I mustered up all of the enthusiasm I could in those red checkered pants and said, "Hey, guys!"

Can we grab a quick picture?

"Sure you can," I thought.  "Sure you can."

So, if you happen to see me on your friend's facebook page this morning...that is the back story.

Final thought.  Could my pants rise up any higher above my ankles?



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