I truly, genuinely care about every single one of my three regular readers. My loyal blogonauts make this never-ending stream of total bullshit a fulfilling, worthwhile endeavor right up there with picking my nose or angrily discarding a losing Keno ticket. I appreciate you, and I’ve decided it’s time to give back.
If you’re reading this, there’s a decent chance you’ve got a drawer full of wrestling t-shirts just like yours truly. I mean, it’s important that everyone on the street knows you’re down with our lord and savior, Crossfit Jesus himself, Seth Rollins. Or maybe you want to broadcast your suitability as a mate and a parent with one of these babies. Or maybe, like me, you just don’t see the difference between rocking a Roman Reigns fist logo and a LaCoste alligator because both brands are totally manufactured and fake as shit and have no value sans that which we the people give them.
Philosophy aside, I know at least one of you cares about dressing appropriately. I’m here to help. Below is a handy reference guide of restaurants where donning your best pro graps gear is appropriate—and in some cases encouraged.
- Friendly’s. They have an ice cream sundae that looks like a wizard and they encourage you to color in the placemats. The fuck they gonna say?
- Anywhere you can get beers in a bucket.
- Kowloon. The crown jewel of Saugus, Massachusetts is known as the after-show party stop for WWE wrestlers and features a hallway full of autographed pictures of the superstars.
- Any suburban steakhouse that averages more than three or more divorced cougars on the prowl on Friday nights.
- The Tilted Kilt or Hooters. Even in a Randy Orton shirt you ain’t the trashiest thing in there.
- Anywhere that serves more than one kind of scorpion bowl.
- River Bar. “But Scott Colby! That’s a trendy spot in Assembly Row on the banks of the Mystic River! It’s classy AF! OkCupid dates with a match percentage of over 90 go there!” Yeah, and last time I was there a dude walked up to the bar in full John Cena gear. Shirt, hat, wristbands, the works. I was kind of hoping he’d get tossed and throw a “You can’t see me!” at the bouncer, but nobody bothered him.
- On 40-cent-or-less wing night. Even one cent more than that and the place is too classy.
Or, if you got enough swag in your step, wear what you want wherever the hell you want.