Friday, July 29, 2011


The following is a work of fiction.

So, there I was standing in my "glory" explaining to my manager why I had to explain to him why I was in my birthday suit.

See, it all happened this morning when I woke up. There I lay in a pool of my sweat, sheets all over the floor and my pillow at my feet. This story would be more racy if there was a girl in the bed with me, but there wasn't. It's just been absolutely sweltering these couple of days and the night hasn't brought any relief. Have you ever had to wake up to wipe the sweat from your cheek that your mistakenly thought was drool?

I lift my self to a seated position with my head in my hands. Wiping the sweat from my forehead and slicking back my hair, I make my decision. 


I get up and grab my towel. Nothing was going to hold me back from this. I think about the different, embarrassing,  scenarios that could possibly arise from my choice. "I'm a grown man. I'll do what I want."

As I step out of the shower, I clean the condensation from the mirror and look myself up and down. Am I ready for this? You're damn right, I am. And so begins the normal after shower routine.

Deodorant applied? Check. Teeth brushed? Check. Hair styled? Check.

Then I come to the next usual step.

Boxer briefs? Negative. "I've got to do something though, right? Can't jump without some sort of a net."

Powder? Check.

I proceed. My jeans in my hand, I step into them and throw on a shirt. I feel different. I feel different. There's a breeze and it's completely welcomed. Throw on some shoes and we're golden.

After a good half hour of checking my pockets to make sure I've got everything and throw down some food, I'm ready for the day. I grab my keys and head off to work. 

Everything feels amazing and I'm smiling because I've got a secret no one knows about. I strut down the hallway in front of coworkers with the confidence of a cat whose dog attackers have been put behind bars. I point to Shelly with my finger mimicking a gun and wink. She's weirded out. I hurry to the break room.

After grabbing some coffee, I make it to my work room. No one else in here but me. I sit down and kick my feet up onto the desk. I sip and take in the wonderful world of Commando. I sigh.

I tip to far back. It all happens so slow. I try to regain balance. The cup flies out of my hand. I lean forward. The cup flips. I watch. Coffee flings itself out of the cup.

Oh God.


"So, you see? The coffee went all over my crotch. I was burning alive. My manhood was in danger. I had to take off my jeans."

My manager looks at me in silence for what seemed like an hour. "Ok. I get it. But, why does it look like you rubbed toothpaste all over your junk?"

Stupid safety net. Thanks for nothing.

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