Saturday, April 19, 2008
Shorts, The Garment That Leaves Me Wanting More
In Michigan, people take sunshine seriously. We get a good three months of the stuff before we all become troll-like hoody-wearing bums. So it's not surprising to see people in shorts when it's like...45 degrees out. Because 45, people, is considered 'balmy' here in Michigan.

Now, I don't wear shorts for a number of cosmetic reasons. I have a theory that the friction created by my thighs rubbing together long enough could possibly create enough energy to power a small weed-trimmer, but I'm holding off on researching this until we either run out of power or I find myself needing to trim something. So, I stick to those abominable fashion mutants--capris and gauchos. But I do not begrudge others their shorts. Hell, if you wanna get melanoma all over your calves and knees, that's cool.

Here's where I have the problem: shorts up to the ol' catamaracker. The fabric that makes up shorts is apparently threatened to the point of extinction, since no manufacturer is using enough to really create an appearance of modesty. Additionally, the shortness of the pant hem is also coupled with this horrible muffin-top fad...pants are sinking around the waistband. This leads to the undesirable affect of seeing all of the back of some overpriced thong when some broad is sitting down. Of course, by sitting, the broad's shorts ride even further up the leg into the black hole that is NOT what you are thinking, but that crease between the lower abdomen and the top of the thigh. The result? A picture worthy of National Geographic, except now, all the loin clothes are in the urban jungle, instead of the real jungle.

I was at an outdoor cafe last night. It was roasting hot (about 70 degrees), and I was sipping a gorgeous, lightly hopped micro-brew. I had the cigarette going, and the nachos were on their way. It could get no better. Then, a gaggle of broads in short shorts sat at the table next to mine. The chicky who sat directly behind me yanked her chair into mine and flung her obnoxiously bleached hair into my naturally (superior) blonde hair. I snorted loudly, slammed my beer down (jolting the head around, dammit), and spun around in my chair. Of course, she was completely oblivious to me, but I was not oblivious to the opportunity that presented itself. She had a two inch gap between her actual waist and her waist band.

I finished my dinner in moderate comfort, though the giggling and smacking and general vulgarity of the party next to me was rather annoying, as was the foot traffic that suddenly increased to my part of the patio. (While I won't pretend to understand why, these kinds of women actually attract men.) I paid my bill, smiled serenely at my husband, and took out a nail file from my purse.

I turned around in my chair as I gathered my purse in my lap. I inserted the nail file into the gap of blonde chicky's waistband. I then stood up and walked quickly away.

Now, I do not know if the girl in the atom-sized shorts actually felt me put the nail file there or if she merely ignored the sensation. I do know that my behavior was strange and pointless, but it felt wonderful to me. In fact, I wasn't even original in this--a friend of mine shared an experience about someone who knew someone who actually did this to someone else...

I don't really know what more to say on this subject. Ladies, if you want to go around naked, then do it. But please. When wearing shorts, make sure you don't have to surgically extract them at the end of the day. And if you don't, you may find more in your crack than you bargained for.
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
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