Rather disturbingly, I noticed earlier this week that my very favourite pair of jeans – classic G-Star Elwoods, if you're interested - were, after about five years, finally giving up the ghost and beginning to fall apart. And where were they showing their signs of deterioration? In the groin, of course.
Now I'm not one of those guys that feels the need to splay his legs apart at right angles whenever he sits down, but I will admit I do like a bit of air around the boys. Imagine my distress, then, at noticing three frayed patches threatening to tear into noticeable holes at any minute; there are many things I like to do in the office, but exposing myself is not one of them. I spent the rest of the day sitting at my desk with my knees clenched so penis-crushingly close together that I was the complete antithesis of Brittany Spears getting out of a car and flashing the world her hee-haw.
My mind was set: I needed to buy some new jeans. Fortunately, Friday night I was invited to the lovely Lorna's birthday party in Covent Garden - and what else is in Covent Garden? Why, the G-Star store of course - hurrah! So, straight after work I zoomed up town, and meet up with Marcosy; I'd told him to met me by the Starbucks in Leicester Square, but he complained there isn't one there. I very firmly told him there was, and that he should stop being stupid.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, seems there's not a Starbucks in Leicester Square any more - they shut it. Damn! Eventually we met up, and strolled purposefully toward the G-Star store. Holy crap, it's like awesome man-clothes heaven. I literally could've spent thousands in there. But I kept my eyes on the prize, and restricted myself to the wall of jeans. And there I found … NEW ELWOODS!!!! RAWR!!
They're basically the same as my old ones, but with funky bigger back pockets and some kind of industrial looking buckle on the arse. More importantly, though, they're cheaper than they were five years ago. I had to have them. And when I bought them, I was surprised to find that instead of some crappy old plastic bag, they give you an awesome hard-wearing woven bag that I can reuse when I go to Sainsburys! Good times!
After that, we headed off to the party. We met lovely Lorna at the door, and she was immediately drawn to my G-Star bag.
"What did you buy?" she asked.
"Some new jeans!" I replied. "My old ones were wearing out in the groin area."
"Really? Why's that," lovely Lorna asked.
And always one for an inappropriate or vile joke, I replied, with a completely straight face "because I have a huge penis."
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The hilarity didn't end there, though, because El Deanio was also at the party, and conversation quickly turned to the iPhone, as it quite often does with everyone I know at the moment, possibly at my instigation I should add. Now, I'd previously mentioned that El Deanio had asked me to queue up outside the Apple Store with him the day before the iPhone is released, and he was shocked to discover that I wasn't going to get one straight away. He brought this point up again.
El Deanio, I should point out, is renowned for spewing forth incredibly amusing-slash-ever-so-slightly-offensive, but nevertheless profoundly wise statements, and my willingness to wait until the initial iPhone furore dies down – by which time everyone will have one and that *wow* factor will have gone – before getting one myself manifested itself in this comment:
"It's like shagging a slut."
"What?!"
"It's like shagging a slut. You're just stirring another man's porridge."
…
…
Somewhere in there he's kind of got a point.
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I had to go to Kingston this morning for a meeting to renegotiate my mortgage. I shan't go into the hellish amount of hassle that was involved in trying to arrange this meeting, suffice to say that one irate phone call yesterday morning led, all of a sudden, to a 10:30 meeting today with a woman who was all smiles, kittens, and rainbows.
Anyway, a jaunt to Kingston inevitably involves a brief visit to the Apple Store, which at 10 am this morning was pleasantly devoid of the brat-children that are usually in there checking their Bebo accounts and generally being annoying. And what delights awaited me today? Ooo-la-la - the new iPod Touch!
Now this was exciting for several reasons - it's basically an iPhone without the phone bit, and it's awesomely sexy. I quickly picked one up and started playing around with it. And awesome it is. It's all touch-screeny goodness, and it's got a web browser on it that you can zoom in on just by moving your fingers apart. But what website did I decide to test on it? Why THIS ONE of course. Taa-daa! Yes, at 10 o'clock this morning, I officially touched myself in the Apple Store. Good times indeed! I think that calls for a sexy "rawr!" RAWR!!
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When I got home I decided to take action. My car parking space at Sparky Towers backs on to a wall, and the garden on the other side has a big tree-type-bush thing in it. It used to be the case that the guy who owned said house would come round every now and then and trim his, ahem, bush. But recently he hasn't, which was pissing me off quite a lot because I was having to park my car in his, ahem, bush. Anyway, I noticed this bloke was outside his house today, so I strolled over to him, and asked if he'd mind me having a go at his, ahem, bush. He looked at me blankly for a while, and I was very close to asking him if he was retarded or in the midst of having a stroke or something, but then he sort of mumbled "yeah, whatever."
And so I grabbed the secateurs I'd borrowed off Sparky Ma (although bearing in mind the amount of time I've had them, she'd probably use the term 'stolen'), and headed over to the car park. Now, I'm not a gardener in any way shape or form. In fact, I'm kind of like the serial killer version of Alan Titchmarsh - I start with the intention of delicately pruning things, but then I CUT CUT CUT and I can't stop so I CUT CUT CUT some more, and then there's nothing left but stumps, and my hands are bloody and I've got binbags of evidence to dispose of.
Long story short, then - this guy's gonna go apeshit when he sees his, ahem, bush. It looks like a monkey on crack went at it with a chainsaw. On the plus side, I can park my car properly now, and maybe next time he'll cut his own f**king bush.
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15 comments:
First!
When I clicked on the iPod browser link I got all confused. "yes, but WHICH SITE did you view?!" I'm not so smart in the mornings.
RAWR on the jeans, though. sexy buckle!
Oh my goodness! Inappropriate touching; huge peni bursting out of jeans; Alan Titchmarsh (kidding. Really.).
RAWR, indeed.
* goes for lie down *
Dinah - It's like being caught in some kind of weird tinternet-based loop!
Inexplicable Device - You like Alan Titchmarsh - ha ha ha ha!!!!
I really want to be a boy for the day, just to see what all this penis hoo-ha is about. The first thing I'd do is punch myself in the nuts to see if it really does hurt that much.
My jeans are wearing at the bum part... does that mean I have a huge arse? Dora??? Do I??
Yes, and *why* do men sit with their legs so far apart? It's hardly enticing.
my jeans usually wear out in the thigh. and the cuff. is that what you call it? cuff. the part where your leg stick thriough. but that' sjust cuz i walk on it so mucb because i can't be bothered to get it hemmed because i'm zaly . i mean lazy.
i don't htink i'd want a penis.
T-Bird - As someone who once received a high-speed tennis ball to the groin, let me tell you: IT HURTS.
I'd suggest that if you're jeans are wearing at the bum it might have something to do with the fact that that's what you sit on. Or you might be J-Lo.
As for sitting with legs apart, some might say that it's a subliminal habit from caveman times. Truth is, it's much more comfortable than crushing the fellas.
Dinah - Jeans fraying at the cuff-thingy is the in-thing, you trend-setter you!
Maybe you and T-Bird could share a penis. Penis for a day!
No, I don't want to share my penis for a day. After I get over the kick to the nads, I am going to crank it out for the rest of the day.
Well, my bottom is not as big as J-Lo's. At least I hope it isn't.
I've never thought about how weird it must be to have all the senstive tackle just... hanging there. I am so glad I am a girl.
Well. Not really. I can't do the windmill.
I had one pair of jeans that ripped in that area. Thankfully since we can't usually wear jeans to work, I didn't find out about this until I wore them on a weekend. But I wasn't about to break out the sewing kit. The jeans were put to rest.
Yes, maybe next time that guy will trim his own damned bush. You do what you have to do.
* gets up *
* discovers this place is rife with peni *
* lies down again *
I don't think I'd want a used penis. No offense, T-Bird.
T-Bird - Never did I think I'd ever read a comment that mentioned the words 'penis' and 'crank it out' in the same sentence! As for all that tackle just hanging there - I know - it's just asking for trouble.
Tara - Yes, tragically sometimes you just have to let a beloved pair of jeans go… *sniff*
Inexplicable Device - They're everywhere.
Dinah - Um, they're pretty much all used.
yeah, but I don't want to GET it used. If i'd had one, I'd want to be the one to...break it in, so to speak.
Crotch rot? Holes in the crotch area in your jeans, underwear, sweats or any other fabric that covers your genitals? Well, maybe you have the same problem I have -- I find whenever I'm sitting down in any semi-private area: at my desk, in the car, etc., my left hand mysteriously (and chronically) somehow finds its way to my penis where it habitually wants to massage the head of my penis through the cloth. Over varying amounts of time all this penis attention eventually gets the best of any clothing I wear over my groin area. Having had the problem of crotch rot for many years its my opinion that your problem may be the same as mine. I wonder if anyone will ever come up with a solution that works?
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