Bring in da noise, bring in da frump

Do you know what I love about my job (aside from the super hours, ample time to spend with friends and family and ideal parking situation, of course)? I love it that on the weekends I can shuffle into the newsroom in my loungwear with disheveled hair and zero makeup -- and no one cares. I bet I could wear my beloved scrub suit to work and no one would bat an eye.

I'm not sure I could survive in a pantyhose-and-suit workplace. Yea, I might physically perish in such an environment. How do people do it? If I had my way, we'd have uniforms at the newspaper. Think of it: no more harrowing trips to the mall, no more minutes spent gazing blankly into the closet wondering what goes with what. Someday, when my bag of money reveals its hiding place, I will either A) buy the newspaper and impose a uniform policy or B) hire a personal shopper to find a few garments that fit me and buy several in every conceivable color so that I'd never, ever, have to enter a clothing store again. Oh, and elastic waistbands -- everything would have elastic waistbands.