Stuff In My Drawers Day

an occasional jaunt into my past via the crap in my drawers

I am not a particularly hatful person. It's not that I hate hats (for there's enough hate without hat hate), it's just that hats aren't really a part of my daily ensemble. This hasn't always been the case -- throughout my formative years, I almost always wore a ball cap on my head.

I can't really pinpoint the reason why, because it usually wasn't even a cool cap -- just whatever cheap cap I'd bought or received for going to this particular camp or that particular brothel. It definitely wasn't to hide hideous hat hair because anyone who knew me back then knew that my hair was generally just a little bit taller than I was at any given time (about 3/8"). I suppose it was just a comfort thing -- much like having a drink held in my hands at a hopping party, having a hat on my head gave me one more thing I could control in scary social settings.

For today's post, I dug out some of the many baseball caps from as early as twenty years ago and modelled them with my patented Asian sexiness. Did you know me during one of these phases? Let the nostalgia begin!

I got this hat at the National Capital Area Council "Discovery Scout Show" in 1989, which evidently had something to do with the space shuttle and a million hyperactive screaming Cub Scouts. I think they were taking the most obnoxious ones and launching them into space.	When you force the Boy Scout Troop you run to wear berets as part of the official uniform, you're not allowed to wonder why 50% of the incoming Cub Scouts drop out by the time they start Junior High. Je suis la sexe. That yolk-like reflection is unfortunately placed.
IMPEESA was a scout leadership camp. When I arrived with my backpack at the bus location, they almost denied me entrance because they said I was too short and too young and wouldn't make it through the arduous week. After a round of effective negotiation from my dad (which involved him saying, "He's going" while being six-foot-seven), I was on the bus to the crappiest leadership camp of all time. As retribution, they put me in the rejects' camp, and while all the other groups were falling into each others arms and crossing fake canyons on planks, we were back at camp playing cards and sword-fighting with sticks.	By the time our troop was down to about one person, someone high up finally realized that berets look retarded, and switched to the standard issue ball cap. I really need to shave -- I did not have this much facial hair in Boy Scouts.
I bought this hat at a regatta in my junior year of high school, and wore it perpetually for the next five years, well into college. I liked it because the adjustor in the back was high-class cloth, and not those stupid plastic snap-tabs that eventually crack down the middle.	Late in my Scouting career, I went to the Penn State Summer Camp for Science and Technology. Our disparate group of scouts from various troops all over the Mason-Dixon line was once again the troublemaking group, and to this day, I have no idea how it's possible to earn a Chemistry merit badge in a camp with no electricity.
When the URI! Domain first opened in 1996, llamas were a large part of the artistic motif. For no good reason, I also had the alias, llamaboy@vt.edu (which probably still works today). My mom got me this hat as a joke Christmas present, but I never really wore it much (whenever I did I'd have to explain it to someone, and this was in the era when doing stuff online was not cool. I am into peer pressure).	When I first went to college, I was of the mindset that wearing school clothing while attending that same school was mostly retarded, and on par with writing "Warning: Contains Nuts" on a package of peanuts. My stance towards this softened over the years until I bought this hat and then it was all downhill from there. I still don't wear shirts with advertising though.
My dad bought this hat for me when I moved down to Florida for grad school, but I never wore it a single time -- the brim is still perfectly uncreased and there's not a speck of dirt on the forehead band. This hat hung in the window of my apartment for two years, right next to the "FSU School of Music" bumper sticker, until it was knocked out by Booty, who liked knocking things out of the windows and peeing on them.	Booty doesn't wear hats.