All my writing energy this week has been taken up by a report for my manager on the new features of the 2.6 Linux operating system kernel. I know... I know... to many of you it's all "blah... blah... yadda-yadda... strange word... yadda.. blah." Hey, it's what I do for a living... though I find that writing all day at work leaves me less than enthusiastic about writing just for, you know, fun.
I've been heading back to the gym seriously this week (more about that another time), and I've been lately reminded that there are just some things about people you don't want to know. Unfortunately, you often find these things out while dressing and undressing together in the men's locker room at the gym. (No ladies, it's not all towel snapping, intimidation, and horse play in some vulgar display of latent homosexual urges... we are adult men. We save that for all the cuthroat business tactics we engage in outside the gym... and well, on the basketball court... which is why I don't do well at basketball.)
Anyway, you end up finding out all sorts of things about your fellow man in the locker room even with the most casual glance. Some are harmless. Like that guy who makes me recall a comedy act describing a hair removal product where someone utters the words "that isn't a hairy back, that's a pelt." Or the guy I saw the other day who wears toe socks. Socks with toes, like fingers on gloves. Who knew that such things existed in men's dress socks?
Today, however, I saw something that fell more into the "I really don't need to know that, thanks... no really... honestly" category. I turned around and saw that a fellow across the way had tan lines across his butt. Really thin tan lines... straight across his upper buttocks, parallel to the floor. The kind you don't get wearing just a Speedo, but the kind you get wearing a g-string.
I'm sorry. I just have to say that again.
That, I most definitely did not need to know.
on 2004-07-22 at 9:10 p.m.
The Wayback Machine - To Infinity And Beyond