On this blog, sanity sometimes takes a back seat to obsession. I refer to my readers' obsessions, of course, as mine are entirely normal.
LEV
Occasional commenter Lev writes:
"WHERE ARE THE PANTIES!
Such a long post, and NO mention of panties! You are losing your touch, and soon will have no deviants visiting you. You do not want that, do you?
I am not here for clean living. Next post better mention panties."
This blog is entirely about clean living and deviant-free. I state categorically that I have no clue what he's talking about. I am not touchy, and there is no deviance.
Panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties!
GRANT PATEL
Reader and voluminous commenter Grant Patel waxed lyrical about the connection between panties, coconuts, and gorillas. Even after rereading his many comments twice, I'm not entirely sure what he meant, and his thoughts seemed to have little connection with the posts beneath which they appeared.
The most lucid thing he wrote recently was: "Avi, the creepy part is not the post, but the readers."
Omeyn ve omeyn to that.
TZIPPORAH
Two months ago Tzipporah astutely connected panties, wombats, and elderly rabbis in an eloquent and image-rich comment that made a heck of a lot more sense than Lev or Grant are capable of, and actually related to the post under which she placed it.
Quote:"The petite Asian schoolgirl blushed prettily when she realized the wombat had made off with her panties... what would she do, with an elderly rabbi about to arrive for Torah study (which, under no circumstances, would involve Jeebus). "
[See under this post: a short middle-aged bald person with a tiny penis and mediocre breasts]
UNDERWEAR
Lev wants me to write about panties. Grant wants more coconuts and gorillas. Avi finds creepiness. Spiros is on record with wombats and bananas. Graham admires Greeks and arse-antlers.
And Tzipporah sees the myriad possibilities.
My readers are precious to me. But rather than writing about panties, I shall mention boxer shorts. This post is not about an obsession, nor about a fetish. Yes, some people (innocent little feminine persons, mostly) do indeed have a boxer thing going, but this post is not about that.
No im gonzen. And no to panties.
This is about what happens when a credit and collections person gets dressed in an awful hurry before rushing off to work, having woken up late and gulped down the coffee and showered before being really awake (I had a long day yesterday and needed more sleep than I got).
And discovers, at nineteen minutes past ten in the men's bathroom at the office, that he has his boxers on backwards. This being the only logical conclusion one can jump to while groping around frantically and not finding the opening in the cloth that logic dictates should be within easy finger-reach -- dammit where is it what's wrong is this a sign of the end-times aaaaaurghh!!!
Said logical conclusion being accompanied by something akin to panic, with possible foaming at the mouth and pained moans of distraction.
Hop hop hop stumble.
Darn well lost my balance there for a moment, and crashed into the crapper wall.
Good thing nobody was in stall next door.
I have had better mornings. Much better.
No, I did not partially disrobe and reverse the boxers in a desperate hurry lest any of my coworkers see my hairy calves under the crapper door.
No, I did not have a soggy accident, despite the unforeseen barrier to a calm and controlled bladder-emptying.
Nor did I temporarily borrow the darkroom next to the CFO's office for emergency wardrobe adjustments, or sneak into the un-used conference room for some high-speed clothing remanipulation.
I am not an accidental exhibitionist.
Let's just say that now that I am actually aware of this clothing dissonance,
I am indistractably conscious of it. It does not particularly constrict .
But it does feel ..... Odd.
Comfy, too - possibly half of what I imagine that panties might feel like.
But I don't want to go there, and neither do you.
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LETTER BOX.
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THE AIR IS CRUNCHY!
Perhaps it's the weather. There were fewer people than normal about in Chinatown. The chachanteng where I went for lunch had four tables...
21 comments:
Image rich, indeed!
Trying to keep the grin on my face from turning into an audible snicker. No, seriously coworkers, I am diligently working. Not at all reading blogs about middle aged men and their underwear.
I don't believe this! You worked at Drucquer's!?! I used to stop by there almost daily on my way home from classes. You would tell Don I was there. Unless one is shamefully mistaken, we saw a movie together once and discussed books, writers, and poetry afterwards. After returning to the U.S., I was shocked to find that Drucquer's, the cultural institution at the center of many of my fondest memories, was no more. How on earth are you? May I buy you an espresso (or a substitute libation of your choice)?
Oddly enough, I have never put my briefs on bassackwards...I'm not sure it's possible. I'll give it a stab tomorrow morning, in the interests of science.
Oddly, too, boxers make me think of lesbians.
Let me guest post! I'll give Lev his panties. Tons of panties. All pink and powder blue. With lacy trim. Charming little delicates, and big baggy mamma breeks. He'll have his fill of delicate whispey cotton and silk. I guarantee!
---Grant Patel
Oh, and do please tell us more about the rabbi and his petite Asian American student, Tzipporah. We are quite fascinated and enchanted withhow the story starts, and it would be unfair to mleave our breath so baited much longer.
---Grant Patel
Oh and by the way, both, so glad to hear you didn't micturate all over your self.
Truly.
It's a relief.
---Grant Patel
Sorry, I forgot to try to put my briefs on backwards this morning; I'll try to remember again tomorrow morning. No guarantees.
I'm fairly certain that I have never once made any reference to bananas.
Wombananas!
And juicy ripe yellow wombats.
---Grant Patel
I think you just did.
---Grant Patel
HIS BLOGNESS
LET OP!
I wish to register a complaint!
I may observe arse-antlers - but I do not admire them. I do not like tattoos at all!
I do not care what sailors and building-site labourers or indeed Hells-Angels have done to them - because i am not a pooftah.
But when I see young girls with tattoos then it makes me quite sad.
*************************
BTW
Silk camiknickers are better than panties - trust me - I speak French & I have lived in Provence (well OK most of the inhabitants of Provence speak French & live there - but far fewer have had to cope with silk camiknickers ... as the sun sets...)
Graham
I wish to register a complaint!
The previous complaint had nothing to do with parrots, dead or otherwise.
"or otherwise"
Parrots are popular subjects of tattoos - not only amongst sailors.
Parrots wear neither panties nor camiknickers - but would probably find the latter less restrictive and easier to remove
It is probable that there are parrots who can speak words of French
I once went out with a girl named Polly - which is a name often associated with parrots - and those which fall from their perches.
Graham
The Norwegian Blue prefers kippin' on his back...remarkable plumage!
I've fallen off my chair, Brian.
Just so you know...I still haven't managed to put my briefs on backwards.
Spiros, here is what you do: embroider 'LEFT' on the hem of one leg-hole. Then embroider 'RIGHT' on the hem of the other. You could also use magic marker.
Then put your RIGHT leg in the LEFT hole, and your LEFT leg in the RIGHT hole. And the job is accomplished (that means it's done).
---Grant Patel
At this point I'm forced to conclude that it is not possible to put briefs on backwards. Maybe I'll switch it up, and try putting 'em on inside out. Anything to further scientific enquiry. As a corollary, I can only conclude that I must be bored.
Try wearing panties instead. It will be a good experience for you.
At this point I'm forced to conclude that it is not possible to put briefs on backwards.
I wish you would share the remarkable experiment that resulted in that conclusion.
The idea of someone deliberately putting on their underwear backwards in the spirit of scientific inquiry is delicious.
And wrong. So wrong.
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