Mum: I found one of those hard drives PiC told me about. It’s a one trilobyte passport.
Me: Trilobyte? You mean terabyte?
Mum: Yeah that. Sorry, I was thinking about Star Trek.
Me: That was TRIBBLES!
Mum: Oh, fuck it! Whatever. Amazon is a whore.
fin
Announcement on the 23.40 to Caterham- ‘I would like to remind those who have had a very good night that there is a VERY large step down to the platform. Mind that gap party people, mind that gap.’
A recent article claimed that men were now choosing to wear panty hose for, get this, ‘fashion and comfort reasons’. Uh, okay.
The article further states that ‘sales have rocketed thanks to their practical use and the bold fashion statement they make ‘ and ‘some men want to keep their legs warm during winter, while others enjoy lounging around the house in them and others enjoy wearing patterned tights with shorts’. emphasis mine
Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
While I can give credence to the idea that a certain subsection of men might choose to wear pantyhose (at £17 a pop no less!) and I can totally see the fashion side of the argument, I take particular umbrage at the idea that men would wear them for comfort. Or because they’re practical.
You know, I’ve spent quite a bit of time around drag queens and never once did I ever hear any of them claim to be so comfortable in their pantyhose (or broseiry which is someone’s obviously desperate attempt to shoehorn a new word into the common vernacular) that they would choose to start wearing them in their day to day life for practicalities sake. Usually the comments would extend to either ‘I wish they made these damn things a little bigger’ or ‘Oooh, Mary, these hose are seriously mashing up my mangina’.
The latter issue could be solved if said tights had some sort of junk pocket to house the meat and veg but from what I can see in photos these are your old school style tights with the seam straight up through the crotch. They also seem to be just as sheer as your standard set of tights so I’d reckon most guys ‘lounging around the house’ with them on would also choose to wear underpants with them, unless they enjoy giving their friends a proper eyeful in what could only be described as the weirdest and most confusing type of exhibitionism I’ve seen.
I don’t know…perhaps Saul the Activity Snake can sum it up better than I can…
p.s. Also, matted leg hair too? Totally sexy!
Quote source – http://www.metro.co.uk/lifestyle/893872-mantyhose-fashion-conscious-men-snapping-up-pairs-of-man-tights
EVER!
2004 World Series Baseball…signed by the team. *dies of excitement*
Activitiating!
This is Saul. He’s a snake. ACTIVITY SNAKE!
‘Thissss issss not my bessst sssside. Asssssssssss!’
I have been swimming since before I could walk. I first entered the pool as an infant, when my mum saw something in one of her medical texts referring to a baby’s natural instinct to hold its breath. With that first splashdown, a love affair was born. I took lessons and was swimming with a local club before the age of six.
I spent my entire youth by the side of a pool. Because of this, there aren’t a whole load of poolside/locker room activities that surprise me or take me aback. That is until recently.
While they aren’t typically commonplace, unisex changing rooms do crop up now and then depending on the type of facility you’re using. At the very least, some pools will have a communal showering area and sexed locker rooms for changing.
But in all my days- in 16 years of competitive swimming -I had never witnessed the following act:
The Vigorous Soapy Pube Scrub. (VSPS)
Next we’ll do your tush-y!!
This activity is performed in the communal shower area after exiting the pool wherein one holds their swimming suit open and with soap in hand (or just squirted straight onto the offending area) and then scrubs/shucks with wicked enthusiasm. Multiple openings of the top of the swim suit to be sure all soap is washed away seems to be absolutely necessary.
VSPS… capitalised for a reason. And from what I’ve seen it’s not merely the idiosyncratic behaviour of just one overzealous man. Yes, I said man. The VSPS seems to be the sole property of those of us in possession of a Y chromosome. While I could be wrong, I don’t see a whole load of women yanking the front of their swimming costumes to the side and lathering up their lady bits with shameless fervour. Though, to be fair, a lady would have to be a proper contortionist to get the job done without exposing herself.
There could be a very good reason for this, but I honestly don’t see it. I question- how dirty can your tanglewood be after exiting a swimming pool? Why is it so important that you scrub it in such a gleefully robust manner? Is there a magical place you go when your waistband springs back whilst making that wet THWACK-ing noise against your wet belly?
I understand that most people aren’t particularly fond of the smell of chlorine lingering on their skin after having a swim. But show me a guy that can bend over and smell his own pubes and I’ll show you someone who probably isn’t coming to the swimming pool all that often.
I’m genuinely not saying I find this habit particularly offensive- whatever blows your hair back and all that- but I really don’t think it’s all that essential. I mean, if your skin is so prone to drying out after a few laps round the old swimmin’ hole I don’t think scouring your nethers with soap is going to help all that much. You could try a nice soothing cocoa butter lotion, or a light dusting of aloe-vera talc with the caveat that you apply it IN THE PRIVACY OF YOUR OWN CHANGING CUBILCLE!
I think I might even have a coupon for that lotion.
Hey Tim Wakefield,
Is it fair to say I liked you from the beginning? Yes, yes it is.
I was 15 years old when you first started playing for the Red Sox and fuckmewow, that’s a long ass time.
It’s also fair to say that you have also been one of my favourite players during that tenure. Always a class act, never embroiled in scandal and I totally dig that-there funny pitch you throw.
So when the news came down that you were retiring well, I was sad…and on the toilet.
See, my PiC thought it was important that I be told this news as soon as possible and that meant as soon as I woke up. That meant him knocking on the bathroom door, handing me his mobile phone with the article open and saying ‘read this, it’s sad’.
So there I am, first thing in the morning, crying at the news…mid-plop.
It shall not detract from your awesome
I have to apologise Mister Wakefield, the incredibly emotional memory of your retirement announcement will forever be tainted by the previous night’s chicken burger & beer (coincidence?).
I suppose though it’ll be one of those things. I’ll always remember where I was in ’04 and ’07. And I’ll definitely always remember where I was when you announced your retirement.
Anyway, all that aside, I really just want to say thank you. You went out as you played, a true gentleman.
Deepest thanks and Xo,
-platy
The platypus will come…
Oh yes he will.
Oh yes she does.
OGHHHLLSSSIIIHHHNNN!
(or whatever the noise a triumphant platypus makes)
