"Excuse me dear, but your balls are showing"

I’ve been having a bit of jeans-trouble. You see, every pair of jeans I buy ends up with these large gaping holes in them. Don’t get me wrong, I like my jeans a bit torn and worn-out looking. However, my last three pairs have all torn in the same, rather awkward place: a place sometimes referred to as the ‘Chad Region.’ You know that region in-between the crotch and backside. Well, the first two of these pairs had been duly turfed, but I was still wearing the third, hoping nobody would notice the hole. However, this morning as I was leaving for work my wife called out to me, ‘you can’t wear those pants. I can see your balls.’ Sure enough, I looked down and was rudely confronted by said testicles, protruding from my jeans in all their hirsute glory. Never mind the bollocks, here I was in a predicament - for I had nothing else to wear (I could say they stood out like dog’s balls, but that might be taking it one cliché too far?) After trawling through my wardrobe in vain for a replacement pair, I decided I had no choice but to wear the dilapidated denim. However, I realised the main culprit was not so much the jeans themselves, but the old-school boxer shorts I am so fond of. So I ditched those boxers for the more ‘figure-hugging’ Rivers brand, and the problem of the unwelcome gonads was solved. Admittedly there is less breathing room in the Rivers boxers (which I hate), but there is also less chance of being arrested for public exposure. So, all in all, it was a worthwhile compromise (I will definitely have to go shopping this weekend, though.)

My parents' foray into the world of high culture

I was having dinner at my parents’ house the other night when my mum proceeds to tell me how ‘cultured’ they are becoming. ‘Oh yes’ she said ‘we went to the opera last week. I even got your dad to come along with me. How cultured is that, hey?’ I must admit I was quite impressed and asked which opera it was. ‘I can’t remember’ she said ‘it was by the New York Opera company or something like that.’ I thought, OK, so she can’t remember the name of the opera, whatever, who cares, that’s no big deal, so I asked her where they went to see it. She said ‘at the Sun Theatre.’ I said ‘do you mean the movie cinema?’ ‘Oh yeah’ she said ‘it was at the movies. They showed it on the big screen. It was filmed in New York.’ I was thinking, hang on a sec, you mean to say you watched a pre-filmed opera at the movie theatre, when just then my dad joins the conversation. ‘It wasn’t bad, I guess’ he said ‘except I thought the main chick was a bit too fat. These guys were supposed to be chasing after her or whatever, but it just didn’t work for me.’ So then I said to mum ‘wow, it looks like you and dad really are becoming cultured, ooh la la. Look out!’ To which she replied, ‘Oh yeah, and if you think the opera is classy, well the week before that we went to see a musical. Do you know the musical Wicked?’

Why does the devil have all the good music?

Would you let your children listen to this band?

From Rock to Rock (Part Two)

Wow! This book really is an endless fountain of wisdom (see previous post to know what I’m talking about – hence ‘part 2.’)Did you know that Bryan Adams’ lyrics glorify the god of fornication, or that Blondie’s music is Nihilistic?

I also learnt that Stevie Nicks is ‘rock’s blond priestess of the occult,’ and Tina Turner is ‘rock’s lustful grandmother’ (OK, so I already knew that.)

The book goes on to label Motley Crue as ‘one of the crudest and most barbaric of any rock group ever’ and consequently dedicates an entire chapter to them. On page 130 I found this harrowing account:

‘When fans were asked just what they would do to meet Motley Crue, the answers ranged from “sacrifice of wives and children” to one fan saying she would “tear out her mother’s heart with her bare hands and eat it raw!”’

[I can just imagine the author conducting a vox-pop outside a Motley Crue concert, and all these kids taking the complete piss out of him]

But whilst this book is providing me with an endless source of hilarity, the funniest thing about it is that in order to compile it, the author had to spend countless hours listening to all these bands and watching their music videos. Wouldn’t he have been morally corrupted in the process, or is he somehow immune to all that satanic influence?