The Unfortunate Underwear Ordeal

So it turns out that I haven’t bought new underwear since Ronald Reagan was president.

Mrs. R reminded me of this recently when she said it was time to “throw away those things and get some new ones, or go commando!”

Men my age should never go commando, I think it is Man Law # 461.

For a whitey-tighties guy like me, purchasing new undies is more art than science. Get ‘em too small and you’re a soprano; get ‘em too big and you’re support network is non-existent…

Anyway...

A few days later we headed off to the local suburban mall, my mission was to purchase new underwear. Mrs. R’s mission was to contain her hysterics until we were no longer in public. It would prove to be a challenge for both of us.

As we entered the store, two small children ran in front of us. They were being chased by their mom, whom we’ll call “Bouncing Betty.” It seems that Betty was wearing a tube-top type dress and was well, not as slender as she once was. Betty was frantically bouncing across the store, desperately trying to catch her children. I took this as a bad omen.

We reached the men’s underwear department where I was confronted by a bewildering choice of styles, cuts, colors and sizes. Now the pressure was on. I made my choice and grabbed several packages of new underwear.

Men’s underwear are not packaged discretely. In my case the package said in big bold letters, “Caution – Contains Men’s Underwear for Old Guys.” On top of that, the nearest open checkout stand was across the store, about 6 miles away and right next to the “Misses” Department.

Misses is where all the cute young women shop, and this day was no exception. Mrs. R and I patiently waited in line as several attractive young women walked past me, whispering and pointing and laughing.

Mrs. R and I finally made to the checkout stand where the young lady behind the register asked “Did we find everything okay?”

This was too much for Mrs. R who broke into hysterics, knocked over a couple of racks of dresses and had to leave the store.

I got checked out and we headed for the bookstore, with me carrying a bag full of 15 pairs of whitey-tighties. I am not making this part up – as we entered the bookstore the shoplifting alarm went off. As if I wasn’t self-conscious enough…

So now I had to have my bag searched by some 16 year-old girl who may never have seen old guy undies before. It would have been embarrassing if it weren’t so humiliating.

We made it home, I threw my purchase in the washing machine, ran ‘em through the dryer, and smugly thought that I would be all set to go the next morning.

Well it turns out I had let me ego override my better judgment and got ‘em too big. So I spent a few days without support and being crankier than normal, if that’s possible.

I went back to the store to purchase the correct, i.e. smaller, size. This time the checkout counter in the Men’s Department was open and was staffed by a young man.

As I approached the counter he asked “So how is your Saturday going so far?”

Being as articulate as I am, I cleverly replied “fine.”

After I checked out he told me to “enjoy.”

And I thought to myself “Oh I will, Sparky. I will enjoy these brand-spanking new whitey-tighties for the next 20 years or so. By the time they’re worn out, I’ll probably be wearing diapers…”

At least I got the right size this time…

Mid-Olympics

The Suburban Rogue mid-Olympics report:

1. The opening ceremonies were incredible, in spite of the digital dubbing of some of the fireworks and the lip-synching children.

2. Michael Phelps is a stud. It is possible that I have a man-crush on him.

3. Dara Torres is amazing. Kinda makes you feel like a loser when you decide not to exercise because you’re forty and there was something good on TV…

4. Fencing is a cooler than you might think. Congrats to the USA Women for sweeping the medal stand.

5. I’ve yet to see any horses in the pool with the water polo teams…

6. Jennie Finch can strike me out anytime…

7. Arby’s gets the first week DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Gold Medal for their lame commercial “You mean I can get any 5 for $5.95.?” We get it Arby’s, we freakin’ get it…

8. Olympic Badminton bears little resemblance to the backyard barbecue game we’ve all played.

9. I refuse to watch Women’s Gymnastics. Because I’m an equal opportunity curmudgeon, I also refuse to watch Men’s Gymnastics.

10. As soon as they invent an Olympic Sport for out of shape pear-shaped men in their fifties, I’m going to get a job at Home Depot since they seem to have a lot of Olympians on their payroll...

Go USA!

Miscellaneous Observations I

Some miscellaneous, unrelated observations…

Have you seen the commercial on television in which a pretty young woman, wearing a red tank top, wanders through a busy city with her arms in the air? This is apparently to demonstrate that she is very confident with her deodorant. Have you also noticed that she is wandering alone? This is because most men are not attracted to women who repeatedly stick their underarms in other people’s faces…

Father Rogue reports to me that Oscar Mayer, who for a number of years has advertised “100% All-Beef Franks, is selling franks that are now “Beefier than Ever.” Hmmm…, they might need some remedial math training over there at OM….

Daughter Rogue and I have decided too begin guitar lessons together. Given our combined musical abilities, this will certainly test the patience of our instructor. Mrs. R says that between my beloved pick-up truck Big Mo, my beloved Golden Retriever Marci, and the guitar thing, I am the walking embodiment of a country music song. Plus I have a spiffy new pair of cowboy boots (re: Suburban Rogue April 7, 2008).

Here is link to some country music song titles that you may find entertaining:

Country Song Titles

My office has decided to hire some new folks. It’s a good idea; new people can often bring a new energy and fresh ideas to an organization. Apparently the person who put the announcement for the new employees together took this fresh ideas concept to heart. Instead of announcing that Janet would work for Jim, the memo stated “Janet will be under Jim.”

Wow. They must have a lot more fun up on the third floor…

Commercials

With the Summer Olympics just a few weeks away, I am very concerned about what Madison Avenue has in store for us. You likely don’t recall, but I have been openly critical about some television advertising in the past, and have bestowed the dreaded DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award upon deserving companies all across the land.

Some previous winners include:

Ford Motor Company, for showing that the brakes on their trucks were so strong that they could actually stop an airplane. That’s important because you just never know when you’ll be driving down the road and need to stop an airplane...

Chevrolet, for their inane commercial showing a jogger repeatedly running into a parked car. No “snarky” comment is required here…

Dodge, for showing us that their trucks are so tough that they can withstand a pummeling from a Rockem-Sockem robot. for those of you who aren't old enough to remember, Rockem-Sockem robots are plastic toys from the 1970’s…

This weeks DUMBASS Award medal winners are:

Bronze: Kentucky Fried Chicken has returned their “Whoa, didn’t see that coming” ad to the airwaves. I have to say that I too am often surprised when I bite into a hot wing and it tastes exactly like a hot wing...

Silver: Walmart for their “You can cash your economic stimulus check here, for free!” ad. Hmmmmm, I wonder if my bank knows about this? Wouldn’t that be great if banks started cashing checks for free, just like Walmart? Oh, wait, never mind…

Gold: Subway for using the term “Yum-rocket” to describe their sandwiches. Sounds like a line from a 70's porn movie. Not that that I ever actually saw one of those movies...

Stay tuned dear readers. I'm sure the Olympics will bring us even more ads to lampoon...

Real Life Part I

It has come to my attention that there is, on occasion, some exaggeration of actual events as they are reported in this blog. While I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation, I can assure you that the following events are presented as they actually occurred, without exaggeration or other distortion of the facts...

This conversation recently happened at my house:

“Honey, have you seen my green pants?”

“You mean your sage pants?”

“No, I mean my green ones.”

“They’re sage, not green.”

“Sage sounds gay.”

“I’m a woman, and I can be gay if I want to!”

I was driving down a main thoroughfare the other day in light but steady rain, following a convertible whose male driver had the top down. I was chuckling to myself when a thirty-something blonde woman pulled up beside me, also driving a convertible, also with the top down. I adjusted my speed so that she remained next to me for several miles because I believe I was witnessing the worlds first 45 mph wet t-shirt contest…

Earlier this spring, Mrs. R was fighting a nagging sinus infection that just wouldn’t go away. Her doctor had prescribed an inhaler to help keep her airways open. Something about oxygen being important.

Anyway, on our way to a Rockies game, Mrs. R became concerned that she couldn’t make the walk from the parking lot to the stadium if she didn’t use her inhaler. She put the inhaler in her mouth and pressed down once, then twice. At this point she broke into a hysterical, wheezing kind of laughter. I was thinking, “Damn, there’s some good drugs in those inhaler thingies.”

Turns out Mrs. R forgot to remove the cover from the mouthpiece of the inhaler…

I recently finished reading a book about a writer’s account of his real-life adventures through the rugged Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico. The book begins with the author being chased through the woods by some drug-crazed bad guys who are trying to kill him. The next chapter begins the long story of how he got into that predicament. It is a thrilling adventure and I became completely engrossed in the story, and began to wonder if the author, who, you know, wrote the story, would make it out alive…

Yikes, it’s going to be a long summer…

Clubs, 'Vettes and Turbulence

When Son Rogue was younger, he and I started a tradition of going to a Rockies game each year near his birthday and Father’s Day, since those two occasions are often only a few days apart. In recent years, as our lives had become busier, we had gotten away from that tradition. This year, SR surprised me with a birthday gift of club level seats to a Rockies game the day after Father’s Day.

Let me just say this about that. The club level at Coors Field is really nice. I mean really nice. The club area, behind the seats, is indoors, air-conditioned, carpeted, tiled and staffed with very polite people. Oh, and there is lots of good food to choose from, much better than the options that the poor unwashed masses sitting in the “regular” seats have.

In addition to the nice surroundings, the people sitting in the club seats seem to be better behaved than elsewhere in the stadium. It was quite refreshing to not sit near some guy that thinks he knows everything about baseball because he "almost made his high school junior varsity team…"

The view of the field is terrific from up there, and it’s a great location for foul balls. The gentlemen sitting in the row in front of us brought his glove along, just in case. He also took out a second mortgage to buy a beer. Somewhere around the third inning he set his glove down to take a sip of beer. Unfortunately the batter didn’t see him do that and sent a foul ball towards our section. Our mortgagee instinctively reached for the ball, spilling his beer in the process. Our section heaped a lot of good natured abuse on the guy, and he laughed it off.

During in the middle of the game, some ominous looking helicopters started flying near the stadium. SR and I guessed that it was some sort of practice for the upcoming convention here, and SR verified it on his blackberry. About 2500 police officers were involved in the exercise, except for the three sitting behind us, who were in plain clothes and enjoying the game. Since they carry guns for a living we decided not to ask them why they weren’t training with their fellow officers…

One of the risks of the club level is that it attracts frat-boy types of all ages, including the father-son duo sitting a few rows in front of us. Dad, let’s call him “Dick” (the reason will become obvious), was well-dressed, wearing tasseled loafers, nice slacks, suspenders, and an expensive shirt and tie. He was well coiffed and thought that he “had it goin’ on.” It almost worked too, except that instead of removing his tie, he just loosened it and spun it around on his neck so the tie was pointing toward his ass. Not to be outdone, Dick’s son wore his glasses backwards on his head for most of the game. They were not sunglasses, but regular glasses, you know, for seeing. Ahh, frat-boys…

Oh yeah, the game. The Rockies didn’t play well, and were shut out until the bottom of the 9th inning. The only highlights were when Willie Taveras nailed a runner at the plate with a terrific throw from center field, and pinch-hitter Aaron Cook, who is a pitcher, hitting a first pitch single to left field. Other than that, it was a tough night for the Rocks…

Thirteen hours after the game ended I was on a plane heading to Nashville. I to had help solve some construction problems at a place north of Bowling Green, Kentucky. You may know this pace as Mammoth Cave National Park.

I had never heard of Bowling Green, Kentucky. I always thought that Bowling Green was in Ohio. Apparently, there are at least two Bowling Greens.

Bowling Green, Kentucky is the home of

Western Kentucky University

and, interestingly enough, the

Corvette Assembly Plant

and the

National Corvette Museum

Some of the people I met with suggested that I take a tour of the assembly plant, but I was afraid that I would’ve been compelled to purchase a new Corvette after the tour ended. And since I don’t have “65-large” sitting around that I don’t know what to do with, I thought it best to stay away. Besides, I probably couldn’t afford the gas to drive it home.

The highlight of the trip for me was on Thursday when my colleagues and I ate lunch at the Pig Diner in Pig, Kentucky. I would provide a link to their website, but Pig and the diner are located in

Edmonson County, Kentucky

which is in a very impoverished part of the United States. Nonetheless, the food at the Pig diner was outstanding, and I highly recommend it. Oh, and while some of the folks that eat there wear suspenders, don’t show up at the diner wearing your tie ass-backwards…

The trip back home was uneventful, except for the severe turbulence our plane experienced over southeastern Colorado. We hit a pocket of rough air that must’ve caused the plane to drop several hundred feet. When it happened, everyone let out an involuntary “Ooooooooo” and the plane shook and rattled.

At least that’s what I’m told.

You don’t hear too well when you’re curled up in the fetal position, screaming like a little baby…

Huh?

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