Oh Went, no matter what you put on it seems, nothing can put me off of you. Look at you...No really look. That jacket. Really Went. Now this is not the first time you've done this to me. Remember the yellow shirt? How about those awful baggy khakis? I forgave you then and I forgive you now. You see, you are so perfect that there should be statues chiseled in your honor, poetry written (not by me, I hate poetry) and paintings even and that is the ONLY reason you are able to get away with this shit. But then, I'm not exactly a fashion plate either. I think we both just pick up what's on the floor or what we think "matches" and we're out the door. Or perhaps I can blame your stylist for this? I don't know. You have a steady job, there is no excuse for the way you dress other than a sheer lack of effort and you know what? I appreciate that. It takes a high level of self confidence to not give a shit what you put on in the morning and you and I might just have that in common. I however am not photographed constantly and I don't do photo shoots so you're supposed to do better. I demand you do because until I see you naked, I actually have to LOOK at these clothes and I am not impressed. I still love you but you've been bad...So assume the position...
