project runaway

Continuing our streak of frivolous posts that strictly ignore any serious meditation on the hard truths of the human condition, I've gotten a lot of shit today at the office.
Seems my co-workers absolutely hate my shirt. Beaver keeps referring to it as "the blouse," and another bitch colleague called it "very Star Treky." This coming from a guy who's wearing the exact same outfit as yesterday (cough-Slut-cough) and another who looks like he went Dumpster diving behind Housing Works.

It's actually the BF's shirt, so there.