March 12, 2008
Originally published July 18, 2003
I wore the same pair of customized underwear that I wore yesterday. Hell, they were good to go. They COULDN'T have racing stripes in them, because I cut out the part where racing stripes go. I sniffed them. They smelled fine to me, good for another day.
I rummaged through my closet and found a pair of gangsta-rap blue jeans that I remember some deviant asswit on my ex-wife's side of the family giving me for a Christmas present several years ago. I had to cut the tags off that ugly construction, because I never intended to wear them, and threw them in the closet just to get them out of my sight.
I donned my modified underwear, put on the gangsta-rap jeans and looked at myself in the mirror. "You look like a FUCKING IDIOT!" was my first impression.
But I could turn, move around, bend over and touch the floor, rise up again, and MY PRIVATES DIDN'T HURT! So, that is the uniform I wore to work today.
I had only one simple problem. That semi-woody has receded somewhat, but he has not gone away. If you wear baggy pants with a semi-woody, you may be comfortable, but the bulge is obvious. It sticks out like a sore dick thumb.
I received a lot of strange glances today, and a few outright, blatant stares. My only regret after today is that I work in a chemical plant full of mostly men.
I wish I worked in an office full of curious wimmen.
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