Nope, not the stuff that ruins lives. Just the crack that ruins my view.
Yup. I’m talking about bottoms today. There’s a nice Friday morning chat for you, huh?
Specifically, I wish to
rant about discuss other people’s bottoms and why they feel the urge to show them to me. Not people I know and love, you understand. Not people in whose bottoms I might conceivably have a vested interest in the condition thereof. No, we’re talking about complete strangers showing me their seating area without a moment’s thought for my mental state or the likelihood of my lunch making an unscheduled reappearance.
This is the kind of thing I mean…
Now I ask you, is it unreasonable of me to prefer not to see the contents of tomorrow’s “30° mixed colours fast spin” load displayed before my eyes at every turn?
I’m completely lost and bewildered by the chap in first picture, for a start. Everyone knows that’s a waistband. For most of us, the clue is in the word. Waistband. Waistband. If it was designed to be worn halfway down the buttocks, would it not have been called an arse-band? I thought at first it was ‘peacock’ behaviour – you know, presenting his colours to attract the females – but he’s not even wearing particularly edifying undies!
As for that young lady – well! She’ll catch her death of cold for starters, she’s got her thong all twisted which I can tell you now is going to leave a nasty red mark when removed… and I don’t want to see her bottom (I do realise however that at this point I’ve possibly lost the support of my male readers)!
But if I went about with that much of my underpinnage on display what would happen, do you think?
I’d probably get arrested for shoplifting from Milletts 😦