Friday 28 March 2008
Song of the Day: Beirut Flying Club – Nantes. This is a strange but haunting track I heard on campus radio today. "A nice idea, but far too much accordion to be taken seriously," I thought airily at first, but turns out I was simply a.) being a smug and pretentious twat, and b.) wrong.
I'm seeing Ian again for the 3rd time this week at lunch today, before the prac this afternoon. Apparently, he says, the bulk of problem is not my back, but in fact is my neck, although I've been compensating for it a bit and as a result I have a lower back strain where my back and arse join – crack-strain, if you like, which is what Paolo now calls it. Okay, not quite, but Ian did spend some time working the muscle layers around there in an almost-exactly-but-not-quite bum massage. I like to think of it as foreplay, but my already shitty gaydar picks up sweet F.A. from Ian.
I can tell from the VPL (that's visible pants line, not visible penis line) I can see when he moves that Ian has not joined the boxers/boxerbriefs revolution and is still wearing old-school briefs, like we all did sorta 5 years ago and people still had to dodge dinosaurs on their way to school in the mornings. Some of the guys in Phys Ed back at high school in the last two to three years firmly maintained anyone wearing briefs was gay, even though this is the most ridiculous stat to ever have never been proved. Of course, in high school, boys are largely a bunch of fucking retards whose development is more arrested when they herd than it is when they are found singly, but that's neither here nor there. My old PE class thus would simply say QED if Ian's undies were mentioned; although given their collective double-digit IQ I doubt they would ever actually say "QED." Still, I'll admit to having seen a lot of briefs in gay porn, but I`ve seen a hell of a lot of boxers and boxerbriefs in it as well.
Speaking of which, we had two new guys joining the kick-around whom after meeting I've privately dubbed The Gay Porn Twins – Cameron and Zachary, both kinda cute, kinda buff, uber-twinky, blonde and completely interchangeable, and with completely pornesque names to boot. It's so perfect I couldn't even make this shit up. They aren't actual twins, but soon as I saw them that was the first thought to spring to mind – perhaps I should get them drunk and find a video camera and make us all some money. I'm pretty sure from the look on Colin's face that he was thinking along the same lines. I wonder where I can find two cheap pairs of crisp, white Calvin Klein briefs for them to wear in it.
Rereading the last few entries I've made, I appear to have something of an underwear fetish. Typing this into Google images reveals exactly how much of a fetish this can become; note to self: googling anything coupled with "fetish" is not for the faint-hearted. I've always thought fetishes shouldn't involve health risks; I'd like to point out that mine is clean and wholesome and doesn't involve any physical interaction with other people's used unmentionables AT ALL. I may have an underwear fetish, but it's not the fucking weirdo kind, yeah?
-C