Now I don't mean to brag, but I am the number fifteen result for "Jude Law" and "Detachable Penis." As in, those exact terms each paired in quotes, and side-by-side. Lance Armstrong seems to be very popular once again (according to search results that land folks at this blog), and a lot of people are also interested in UPS and DHL uniforms.
If only this were Sunday so that I might say I was blogging on a Sunday afternoon. Or if it were sunny and not overcast, but then, were it sunny, I'd feel silly for blogging when I could be out in the good weather. As it is, I often feel silly blogging anyway.
Let's bring it to sillier by discussing my running shorts. I have to hand it to a lot of the pairs I've had over the years, they hold up pretty well considering the sweaty abuse I give them, but it is inevitable to have to replace some of these. Elastics go, fabrics degrade and expand, and liners (for I hate to wear underwear) grow limp. The latter leads to disasters of both visibility and support. So it was that I ordered some new shorts and new should perhaps be in quotations as they hardly seemed new. The company, which shall remain nameless, dug these up somewhere from the bowels of their warehouse, a warehouse that may very well be some guy's den. They are shipped in ziplock bags. I now own four pairs of these shorts, in four different colors, and they seem to be cut four different ways and made out of four different materials. In my running log I stated that I might very well discuss this – as I had in my running log – branding myself a loser for doing so. And here we are.
But really, this is so strange. Not wishing to deal with the hassle of returns, I put on one of these new pairs which seem to be constructed of parachute material and I have to say that I am rather fond of their strange quality. If any running shorts were ever constructed with asbestos, these are them. They are proudly made in the USA. Sometimes you gotta get behind outsourcing.
One of these days I will design my own running clothing line as I have long alluded to doing. Limitations like knowing nothing about fashion design won't limit me, I'll merely scour the earth for some well cut shorts, shirts, and so on, and then apply fabrics and designs that will make all who wear them into the kind of asshole I appear to be when I'm out on the streets. Fast or slow, you gotta look...notable...
This post strikes me as being rather like diarrhea. I'm not sure where it came from, why or when it will stop, and nobody is that excited about it. But it's here and I can't do anything about it. Oh sure, I could wipe it all away, but I'll still know it happened.
See you in April, fools...