Uh-uh-uh-uh Stain Alive, Stain Alive

As we slowly work our way through every reality show ever produced, this month Linda and I are watching four-year old episodes of Grand Designs, the BBC show about people building their dream home. Actually, that is the subject, but the show is really about managing projects and how many things can go wrong if you don't plan properly.

The show is obviously having an impact on Linda's thinking. Last night, she was folding some laundry when she asked if the stain on the front of my sweatshirt was a new stain or a legacy of older days.

Before I could recall, she added, "All I know is, if you were a project I would go over budget when it came to buying new shirts to replace the ones you keep dropping food on."

She has a point, I suppose, but it's really not my fault. Sure, a very large percentage of my shirts, ties, sweaters and sweatshirts have interesting blotches on the spot that can best be described as dead center at the top of the highest ledge.

In fact, I can always spot shirts I have given away to charity. They're extremely loose on whoever ended up with them, and there's always that tell-tale smudge in the middle.

It's not like I chose to be clumsy. (And I am not prepared to discuss whether I chose to be fat - not when there are still people out there who will believe me when I tell them it's a combination of genes and environment.) My best guess is that it's a hand-eye coordination issue - namely, when I see food my hand moves too fast to get it in my mouth.

I also know I am not alone. When my friend John and I went to eat mussels at the Belgian Beer Cafe, there was a standing bet on who would ruin their tie first. In fact, I have noticed that most chubby guys have a collection of slightly dripped-upon polo shirts that they wear around the house or out in the garden.

But hey, my attitude is that when you're given lemons you should make gin and tonics. So in the spirit of taking a problem and finding a solution I am developing a range of t-shirts and polo shirts that have targets drawn on the front. (That's the concept of the picture at the top.)

Instead of being embarrassed when we drip that soy sauce on our belly, we can be proud that we've scored a bull's-eye. I can see big guys forming teams and going to pasta houses for their Tuesday night league competition.

There can be a Hall of Fame. (Look, son, there's the shirt the great Don Kennedy wore when he scored 180 with ketchup, mayo and grease in one bite!) There's no reason there can't be a pro league. There would certainly be enough sponsors. I mean, the manufacturers of just about any food that can fall off a fork should love the idea.

Well, I'll leave it at that, for now. But I do think it's time to tell Linda that she doesn't need to worry about a cost overrun if I'm a project. I think we can turn this one into a cash windfall.