New Years Eve 2010 was a blast. I ended up at an “Eyes Wide Shut” themed masquerade ball surrounded by all my friends. We continued to after-party until 9am at a friend’s house. When we left, I believe there were still at least a dozen people there. I woke up hungover as fuck at 3PM with a silver mask on my pillow and a white tuxedo coat on my bed. An interesting welcome to 2011…
(Submitted by M, Chicago, IL)
This shirt has been stolen at least two times that I’m aware of - my ex stole it from the lead singer of a band he used to manage, and I in turn stole it from him. Judging by the wear and tear of the shirt, it’s clear that it’s changed hands many times over the years. Someday I know the shirt will be stolen from me, too, so really every day with it is a gift. My favorite part of the shirt is the faded sharpie scribble on the back that says cryptically, “HOUK MUST.” For years I wondered, “Who is Houk? What must he do?” and then I remembered the popular search engine website, Google. (I’ll save you a trip; he managed the Tigers in the 70s and 80s and made them good). I wear it tied into a knot, 80s style.
About 12 years ago, when the internet was still spelled with a capital I, I met a guy online who lived across the country from me. We would chat on instant messenger for hours, share dirty pictures, and we even met up and made out a couple of times. It was definitely probably love. Somehow this continued intermittently over the years, and at the end of a breakup a couple months ago, he randomly popped up on AIM. By the end of our conversation, he had purchased a plane ticket for me to visit him, and we totally did it for the first time. The shirt I grabbed from him was later reconstructed into a side-boob baring masterpiece, and is nearly long enough to be a dress - a dress emblazoned with a post-apocalyptic scene of bikers, dinosaurs, and lasers. I used to wear it on the back of his bike, white-knuckled as he raced through the streets of Brooklyn at breakneck speed on his customized Suzuki.
(submitted by J from Los Angeles, CA)
Upon exiting any good relationship, it is my habit to take a trophy. Usually, this comes in the form of a band t-shirt. Boys have chemicals in their skin that break down t-shirts in a way that girl bodies cannot. This is my most prized possession - an original issue Operation Ivy t-shirt, from my first big love. He got it at a show in Oakland, circa 1989. I told him while we were still dating that if we broke up, I was taking it with me. He thought I was kidding. He was significantly larger than me, so I cut off the sleeves and tied them into knotted shoulder straps. The decal is pretty crusty and it has several holes in it, through which you can see my boobs when I wear it. I don’t care. I wear it without a bra.
(submitted by K from Boston, MA)