This is serious. When someone has a monstrous hole the size of Texas down the ass of their pants, you need to let them know.
This should be so far beyond moral imperative. Beyond even civic duty. From this day forth, I will petition for this to be made universal law! Mandate of Brogie McDoogerson!
So I was out to lunch with my family the other day, and I was blissfully unaware of the GAPING TEAR in my shorts. When I say it was a big hole, you may be thinking of something the size of your hand. Nope! This sucker was at least a foot long…down my ass.
And don’t give me this “oh, maybe nobody saw it, Brogan” nonsense! My shorts were this tan/beige family color. Sand…we’ll go with my shorts were the color of sand. And the oh so unflattering boxers I chose to wear this day (you know, since nobody was going to see them anyway) were this dark midnight blue. In no way was this blue ever able to be confused with sand.
Sandy-blue is not a thing! It was never a thing. Though I could possibly make it a thing. Hmmm…
Stop distracting me with your flashy ideas!
As I was saying, not a single person mentioned anything. Not a word was whispered (to my face). There were no concerned glances from the hostess. No one gestured or mimed to me empathetically. The wind didn’t even blow in hard enough to give me a clue. I was just showing off to the world, ignorant of the fact that at any moment my shorts might have disintegrated completely.
Correction: I was not showing off. There are much more flattering, form fitting boxer briefs and man panties I could have been sporting. You know, I could have given quite a show. Maybe then I would have noticed something. Not by anyone mentioning a damn thing, of course, but by all the blushing faces I would see once I caught them staring at my glorious tush.
Even better, I’ll just start going commando every day. Whenever this incident happens again, someone will feel a need to tell me because this goes well above and beyond a funny case a schadenfreude and into the realm of being ‘socially unacceptable.’ If you want to stare and not say a word, I want my farts in your general direction to be as unimpeded as humanly possible.
Perhaps it really is just me. I missed the memo stating that we’re just supposed to ignore when other people have some hot damn mess going on. Something stuck on your face? Tiny booger spike wiggling out of your nose? Toilet tissue dragging on your shoe? Your lady nipple (because for whatever reason yours are so much more offensive than my man nipple) is hanging out of your blouse? Well apparently all of these should be glanced over in light of not looking like a creeper.
Well you know what? I think staring at someone’s much-more-exposed-than-your-own ass and not speaking up makes you the creeper.
So please, for the love of everything you hold dear and close to that blood thumper behind your chest flesh, mention shit like this to people. I have been doing this for years, and people just seem grateful. Never have I been looked at like I’m crazy, called a nasty name, or yelled at for being some kind of pervert. Anyone I’ve mentioned things like this to has only ever had one thing to say to me:
And with that, this tirade will come to an end. I want to take a moment to thank everyone for reading thus far. I’m enjoying sharing my thoughts with all of you. Here’s a shout out to my tiny readership in Russia! I haven’t the foggiest idea how you picked me up, but I get hits from you every week. So to everyone: