Thursday, April 05, 2007
Ladies get in line... behind Kevin
(Written March 13, 2007)
My roommate Kevin keeps coming home with new fashion pants and telling me how great a deal he got on them. I immediately demand that he drive me to whatever fine retail outlet distributes the American-designed, Colombian-assembled jeans so I can look like a fashionable young professional like him. Kevin usually laughs a satisfied laugh.
Last week, after bursting into my room in brand new Levi's from Macy's, I again confronted him. He still hadn't hooked me up with his Gap sales associate friend who was supposed to come through with a pair of dark blue boot cut low risers. He couldn't finish his hello before I demanded he explain his second pair of new pants in a month.
"Dude," he said. "You don't even know."
He unbuttoned his pants.
"This might be gay, but I don't even care," he said, unzipping the slim straight 514's and dropping them midway down his thighs to display a sleek black pair of boxer-briefs.
"These," he said, turning slightly to his left to show me a more complete view of his ass, "are fucking awesome."
My roommate Kevin keeps coming home with new fashion pants and telling me how great a deal he got on them. I immediately demand that he drive me to whatever fine retail outlet distributes the American-designed, Colombian-assembled jeans so I can look like a fashionable young professional like him. Kevin usually laughs a satisfied laugh.
Last week, after bursting into my room in brand new Levi's from Macy's, I again confronted him. He still hadn't hooked me up with his Gap sales associate friend who was supposed to come through with a pair of dark blue boot cut low risers. He couldn't finish his hello before I demanded he explain his second pair of new pants in a month.
"Dude," he said. "You don't even know."
He unbuttoned his pants.
"This might be gay, but I don't even care," he said, unzipping the slim straight 514's and dropping them midway down his thighs to display a sleek black pair of boxer-briefs.
"These," he said, turning slightly to his left to show me a more complete view of his ass, "are fucking awesome."
I had to agree. Saturday I drove to Macy's by myself and purchased the exact pants and underwear. Sunday I drove around town minus the uncomfortable bunchiness that is boxer shorts twisted into a pair of fashion pants. My self-confidence escalated knowing that underneath my clothes I was supported by plush brushed back elastic and a double pouch fly.
I returned to my humble bmx house bedroom around 11 p.m., dressed down to the black boxer briefs and strolled into Kevin's room. He looked up from his lap top computer and laughed as I walked toward his full-length mirror to admire the ninja-like appearance of my junk.
