7/16/03

Dwayne answered my call to arms!

He started his very own blog:

http://sluggoisyoyo.blogspot.com

Dwayne gets his very own Greg & Deb on the Web T-shirt. I'm calling the production department tonight and he should have it in a few days. One note to Dwayne: you may want to wash it before you wear it. Twice.

I can't tell you how excited I was to read what he wrote. I don't get to talk to him often enough so I got the scoop on his latest travels. That's a significant thing. It means a great deal to be able to have some point of reference for the people you care about. His blog (and potentially your blog) is a point of reference that he (you) can provide at his (your) leisure. No pressure. Just a willingness to share your thoughts and dedicate a few minutes, clicks and keystrokes. Your friends, family (and a few oddly interested strangers) are worth it.

Way to go, Dwayne! I salute you.

Greg is now climbing down from his enormous soapbox and is finding his way back to his seat in font of his really old Macintosh.

This evening I showed off my underwear as I mowed the lawn.

I chose a T-shirt and my trusty old work shorts as my after-work ensemble. Turns out the draw string on the old work shorts isn't as effective as I thought it was. Compounding the problem is the fact that I have one of those mowers that shuts off when you release the handle. So I knew my shorts were hanging low, but couldn't really get a grip on them with one hand to pull them up. I looked down and from my vantage point they looked like they were doing the job of covering my unmentionables.

I was wrong.

At some point I reached down with my free, non-mowing, hand and tried to pull up my pants. I felt my undies. I felt a gap between my T-shirt and my shorts that was my undies.

I know my neighbors saw my gray undies, too. Some of them gave me strange looks as they walked by. I honestly thought they were checking out my T-shirt. It says, "Where's the Bubbler?" on it and has a picture of a water fountain. Funny stuff.

This isn't a big deal. In fact, a couple of years ago you could go to the mall and see many young men displaying large portions of their boxers or briefs. Maybe Lynn, one of my neighbors, thinks I was just trying to revive a trend. I don't think so because when she walked by with her dog I made a point of stopping the mower and tugging on my shorts as I looked at her and said, "Damn pants!" A teenager wearing a Walkman walked by at the same time and just saw me grabbing my shorts and muttering something to my female neighbor. She shot me a look, widened her eyes and quickened her pace.

Oh well. It could have been worse. My fly could have been open the entire time.

Guess what I discovered when I got back into the house. . .

It was a black day for everyone who happened upon my sidewalk this evening.

Home