Saturday, March 06, 2004
There's no way to get out
I’m in a bad mood today. I had to put on emergency underwear. Let me explain. I emerged, dripping and still half asleep, from the shower this morning to discover a minor crisis in my underwear drawer. To start from the beginning, I’m a boxers man. Me and Bill Murray.
Now most of the boxers that I own are very comfy, suitably loose fitting, and jolly nice. Thanks for asking. On some days however, today being an example, all of my good underwear is in the wash. In these situations I have to restort to the stuff I wish I’d never bought in the first place. The boxers that don’t fit properly: the leg holes are too small, there’s not enough arse-room, the flies have a button (why?!?). This means that I spend the day getting my knickers in a twist - snagged round various bits of my anatomy, cutting off the blood supply and generally making me tetchy.
Too much information? Sorry, I needed to vent.
Now most of the boxers that I own are very comfy, suitably loose fitting, and jolly nice. Thanks for asking. On some days however, today being an example, all of my good underwear is in the wash. In these situations I have to restort to the stuff I wish I’d never bought in the first place. The boxers that don’t fit properly: the leg holes are too small, there’s not enough arse-room, the flies have a button (why?!?). This means that I spend the day getting my knickers in a twist - snagged round various bits of my anatomy, cutting off the blood supply and generally making me tetchy.
Too much information? Sorry, I needed to vent.
