Yachts and Khaki, Pleated Shorts

One of my secret dreams in life is not to own a yacht but rather to know some rich dude who lets me cruise on his. I will be, like, the amusing younger friend who gets to hang out and be slightly underdressed. There may or may not be some hot, disgruntled trophy wife action. I can't say for sure right now. Anyway, my dreams of freeloading my way to yachtdom are coming true as we speak. You see, my cousin, Robby is getting married in Annapolis this coming weekend and the dress code, as it was explained to me, consists of "Sort of Like Tommy Bahamas, You Know." The thing is I don't know. Apparently, though, this means dressing like a freeloading yacht dude, which is A OK by me. I purchased the other day my first pair of deck shoes and man, do I feel like a condescending prick. Its great! Now I just need to get myself under the tutelage of a shmarmy millionaire. I will keep you informed of my performance, which is sure to be epic.