Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Kilted To Kick Cancer - Day 9: What happens when you get kilted?

It's been a new experience for me getting out in a kilt, and it's been surprising that the reaction has been 100% positive.  I'm not used to groups of women coming up to me on the street and striking up conversations, but this has happened several times.  My guess is that they figure that any dude walking around in a kilt has some confidence, which they find attractive.  The conversation about the KtKC fundraiser is always good - the nurses at the doctor's office loved this.

A word to the wise, though - it's not just the ladies who like this.  A guy at the art gallery asked me if I was going regimental.  Given that it was Mid-town Atlanta, there's a decent chance he was at least a switch hitter.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

And out for a walk with Wolfgang, there was a mom and her kid on a bike.  The kid smiled ear to ear.  Also the big (I mean big) shaved head dude going into the liquor store while I sat outside the pizza joint.  He looked at me and I said, "Yeah, I know."  He cracked up.

In every case but the mom and kid it led to a conversation about KtKC.  Everyone thinks it's cool.  Not sure what I had expected, but it wasn't that.  Next year I think I'll get business cards printed up for this and hand them out.  After all, it's the fundraising that counts.  Please click through to donate to this cause.  It's fully tax deductible, as a 501(c)3 charity.  The Donate link is here, and please select Team Borepatch.

And if you click through to read Brigid's post you'll see why she is also invested in this - her Dad is fighting that same fight right now.  She is so invested that she's made an enormously generous offer: the first twenty donations of $50 or more via Team Borepatch will receive an autographed copy of her amazing The Book Of Barkley.

And get kilted! Atlanta Kilts got me set up, and they can take care of you, too.  They have quite a good web site that tells you exactly how to get measured for a kilt that fits like a glove, regimental or not.  Don't ask, don't tell.

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