It’s been one year since I first adopted the Glen Tickle uniform. I still love it. I am never under dressed. I always have plenty of pockets. The Converse are comfortable as hell. Packing is incredibly easy when all your clothes are the same.

Sadly, it seems the Haggar suit that is the center of my uniform has been discontinued. So while I may not be able to keep going with the EXACT same suit (knew I should have just bought 50!) I have years left of the stock I have currently, and if I start wearing a different grey suit it’s not like any of you people would notice. But God help us all if Converse ever stops making the All Star. Then I really would just buy 50 pairs.

I’ve been really fortunate since I’ve started doing stand up in that I have yet to really die on stage.

Last night I went to an open mic at the Tally Ho in Allentown that was populated entirely by other comics. They had each drawn one anothers’ names and did impressions of each other, but I’ve only met a few of them in the short time I’ve done this, so I wasn’t involved in that. To still keep with the spirit I did do a few jokes about my friend Jeremy before my regular set. Both went over really well.

Then everyone was taking turns going up again, so I did too, but I did it with the jokes I was either working on or wasn’t sure about so my second set last night was a trainwreck, but I was sort of expecting it since I was going up with my B-list. So even though I bombed I didn’t feel that bad about it.

Tonight I performed at the Wardell and after two weeks of people telling me I rely too much on my notes I went up without them, and blanked– which is why I bring my notes. I did about half my set and spent the rest of the time trying to remember my jokes. So while admittedly I should have just prepared more I will be bringing a set list with me for at least the near future, but I will also be trying to not look at it. I was also terribly uncomfortable because I was without tie and jacket and felt like a slob since I rushed down to the bar after doggie school with Elvis. It’s remarkable how much more comfortable I feel in uniform than out of it. I’ve said it before, but it really is just a nicely matched security blanket.

I didn’t record tonight, and while I did record my second set from last night I will not be posting it. Not just because it’s not very funny, but also because the audio quality is worse because I kept pulling away from the mic and had to compete over a jukebox.

I make my New York comedy debut this Sunday at Lilly Coogan’s at 8pm, so I plan on preparing the shit out of a solid 5 minute set. I’ll bring a set list up but will hopefully not need it. Wish me luck, or better yet just come out and see the show.

I love my current Converse sneakers, but…

Charcoal Grey Leather Chuck Taylors.

I don’t know that I can find the words for how beautiful I think these shoes are, but with a hefty price tag of $70 they will have to wait. Perhaps I’ll amend my previous entry. Awesome sneakers first, then pay off student loans and mortgage, then spoil people, then budget for a movie.

In an effort to consolidate my vast online life I’ve started the aptly named glentickle.com! Since I manage several of my own sites as well as a facebook and twitter account I’ve found that I tend to ignore one for the others. Hopefully having one site where my beloved readers (both of you) can keep tabs on me will prevent any delays in posting on one site or the other. So while I might not have anything to update about the uniform readers of the Same Suit Different Day site will at least have something else to read.

I tried to simply move this site over to the new address(hence the new look) but ultimately decided to just start fresh. Although I will be transferring many of the posts here over to the new site.

So I hope you dig the new site and continue reading the ridiculous things that I write.

Summer is the season of picnics and daytime parties. What’s different about partying during the day instead of at night?

The dress code.

No less than three times in the last two weeks I’ve been asked by someone at a party if I had to be at work later because of the uniform. I briefly explain that I do not, then am further grilled with questions like “Then why are you so dressed up?” To be polite I don’t give the answer “So I don’t look like a derelict.” and just say that I wear a suit everyday. Inevitably someone overhears this and then adds that it’s the same suit everyday, which leads into further explanation of the uniform.

While I’m not tired of the uniform I’m getting a little tired of explaining it. My life would be easier if everyone read this blog like they’re supposed to. Get the word out readers. Save me twenty minutes per party.

When people heard about the uniform originally a lot of them asked if I would have a summer version of the uniform. I had no intention of this until I found out about this:

http://www.coolibar.com/01501.html thanks to my friends at Dailygrommet.com

Button down PLUS added UV protection? Yes, absolutely.

My wife and I try to make it a point to go grocery shopping together. It’s lame as far as dates go, but when we first got married we had varied work schedules so it was nice to know we at least had that to do together. In the three years I’ve been grocery shopping with my wife I feel like she’s come to really know and appreciate the social dysfunction that I’m capable of.

With few exceptions we go to the same grocery store every week. There’s no real brand loyalty to the store, it’s just that it’s the one closest to our house and I’m a creature of habit. An added bonus is that Shaun Beacham works there so I see him on occasion.

But when you shop with your wife it’s hard to hide things like the fact that you decide which cereal to buy based on the toy inside or cartoon character on the box rather than price or nutrition. Or that putting Paul Newman’s face on something is enough to make me want it. But my grocery store weirdness goes beyond my childish food selection techniques. I’m also really picky about which checkout aisle I go to. Not because of the aisle themselves, but because of the cashiers. Trying to decide which checkout lane to queue up to is really me at my must judgmental. There are three cashiers at our grocery store that I avoid habitually. One is an older woman who is so incredibly slow that I can feel myself age while I wait for her to scan my Golden Grahams. The other is a woman with insane fingernails. They aren’t even just long, but they curve under- almost into a complete circle. I can’t say for sure why this bothers me so much, but it does. Lastly, and worst of all, is the old guy who talks to me. Whenever I get into this guy’s line he invariably tries to strike up a conversation. I tried to suffer through it a few times because he’s actually a great cashier and bagger, but after he once told me how great vegetables are for the digestive tract I’ve had enough.

But last night I got roped in. Steph and I were looking for a lane and as we got to the end of the row I saw an empty lane and before I could look away I’d already made eye contact with him- the talker. I’m flawed. I’m judgmental. But I’m not rude- a trait that lead to an unpleasant lapdance from an ugly stripper- so I had no choice. I couldn’t very well look this guy in the eye as he stood proudly in his completely empty checkout lane and then ignore him to go stand in line and wait for someone else. Besides, he was the second-to-last lane open, what if I passed him and then got stuck waiting for Fingernails?

So reluctantly I pushed the cart towards him. I tried to preempt him with a simple “How’s it going?” but I don’t think he heard me. Then I got hopeful that maybe he wouldn’t talk. He asked if we had coupons, but that doesn’t count. Then as I was bagging it happened.

“Work late tonight?” he asked. Assuming the fact that I was wearing a dress shirt and tie meant I had just come from work at around eight o’clock at night. You did it, buddy. You made an ass out of u and me.

“No, I wear a shirt and tie everyday.” I told him.

“Oh. Alright.” he said questioningly- like a dick. And then shut up.

This lead to a discussion with my wife over what kind of person it makes me that the reason I don’t like this guy is because he tries to be nice to me. No clear answer was derived.

I’m the worst.

Yesterday I went on a rafting trip with the family. While I obviously didn’t wear The Uniform on the raft I did bring one along to change into when the trip was over and I cleaned up and dried off. When the family got back from getting changed I was greeted by some strange looks and got to give the usual explanations about why I wear a suit every day.

My aunt asked “Why wouldn’t you want to bring something comfortable to change into?” To which I replied, “I did. I brought my Uniform. Now I’m comfortable.”

And I was. And am.

Suits = The Best.

I’ve been asked by a few of you if I plan on putting a suit on Elvis. Why you’ve asked me that, I’m not sure. But simply put; No. As excited as I am to be getting a dog I have no intention of turning him or myself into an asinine spectacle.

While I did once put a pair of underpants on my parents’ dog Doodles and put her tail through the weiner-flap (yep, weiner-flap) and laughed about it for a few hours that’s really the extent to which I’ve dressed up a dog.

So in conclusion, dressing a dog in people clothes is silly. However, accessorizing is acceptable. It might not be out of the question to see him in a tie every once in a while, especially on Sinatra Night, where he will be clearly be sporting a bow tie. Elvis is a classy guy.

Despite a mess of applications and resumes sent out for summer teaching jobs I haven’t found anything. As a result I’m home all summer. Focusing my attentions on writing and finding a full time teaching job come the fall. I was talking about this with a friend of mine and she replied with the title of this post. “But you’re still wearing your uniform.”

Yep.

It’s not just what I wear to go to work. It’s what I wear for living. Although honestly I’ve been more lax about suiting up right away each morning. Usually I get up and do some chores or work in the yard, then I shower and suit up. So if it’s before about 2 you’re likely to find me in a white T-shirt and my yard-pants.

On days when I’m particularly depressed it’s harder to get myself motivated enough to get out of bed let alone shower and put on the uniform. It should be noted however that routine is good for depression, and I usually do feel remarkably better once I manage to get into the uniform. A Uniformed Glen is a happier Glen.

But sure enough, when I go out of the house it’s in uniform. I will occasionally run to the hardware store in my yardwork attire, and I was surprised when a student recognized me the other day sans uniform.

Another recent topic of uniformed discussion has been the weather. “Do you really where a suit when it’s this hot out?”

Answer: Yes.

The Uniform, like the deeply complicated writer who wears it, has layers. Too hot? Take off the jacket. Still too hot, loosen the tie and open the top button. I can roll the sleeves under.* I have options.

“What about the pants?” What about them? I don’t wear shorts. Haven’t for years. I own one pair that I occasionally wear when it’s really hot and I’m doing yard work, but that’s it. If they made a bathing suit that was pants I would buy it. In fact, someone get on that. I command it.

Yours in Uniform,
Glen Tickle