Thursday night. This morning, while I was waiting for Ben to come pick me up for work (Sharaun’s driving my car while hers is being fixed), I was outside sweeping up the glass from her broken window – all the while thinking it was Friday. I even wore a ballcap to work, which is something I usually only do on Fridays. When I got in the truck with Ben, I said something like, “Well, at least it’s Friday.” When he told me it was only Thursday, I was crushed y’allz. Crushed. I really need to pay more attention to stuff.
Today after a fine lunch at the all-I-could-eat Indian food buffet, I set off to a local sewing machine and vacuum shop to try and scavenge a motor for the Winch Witch. The shopkeep at the place was an eccentric guy, cracking jokes and stuff, and when I asked for any spare motors from dead/retired machines – he took me in the back room and showed me the graveyard of machines I could choose from. After picking a nice vintage Singer that had an external motor and housing, I joked to him, “Now what do you want for this? I have lots of things to trade, even money.” He joked back that “… a bottle of rum would be nice.” Conveniently located next door to the sewing machine shop is a liquor shop. So I walked over, bought an $8 bottle of cheap rum, and walked back to complete the trade. How strange. I traded a bottle of cheap rum for a broken sewing machine, now how many people can say that. Anyway, I think the purchase was for not – it doesn’t look like the motor will power the witch? but at least I got a funny story.
I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m a big dude or something – but I battle constantly with an almost invincible foe: the creeping, twisting, and altogether encroaching boxers. Yeah you heard me, I’m talkin’ bout my unmentionables, my drawers, my stallion’s stable, and more euphemisms ad infinitum. As much as I’m plagued by my boxers, I’m surprised it’s taken me this long to write about it. So I’m here to rectify that y’all, I’m finna lay this down for ya.
As much as boxers are better than briefs, they do have one drawback – there’s a lot more “loose” material to move around and bunch up and tug and pull on things. Now, I usually wear what the underwear industry calls “boxer briefs,” which are like “tight” boxers, or at least tighter than free-hanging boxers. I prefer these because they are more comfortable to me, and why this is relevant to the story I have no idea.
Anyway, I don’t really know exactly what factors lead to the awful shifting and creeping and twisting, but I have some suspects. First off, I think they have to be put on properly. I’ve they’re even one inch off-center, the simple motion of walking will pull one side up your leg into a bunched ring of boxer at the top. Second, I think a tucked-in shirt can influence movement. If you’re getting a lot of tug from the left side of an disproportional tuck, you can expect the left leg of your boxers to follow suit. The real problem is, once the boxers start moving, it seems that no amount of mid-day readjustment can fix it. So, you learn other temporary-relief techniques. I’ve classified them below.
All unwanted boxer movement, at least for me, falls into the category of leg-to-crotch creep. One or the other leg seems to inch higher and higher with each step. This is not only uncomfortable, it’s supremely annoying. There are several ways to address this situation, short of stripping down naked and re-dressing. My two most-used fixes are a) the up-leg-pull-down readjust, and b) the spin-step-drop readjust.
Method A is the more hardcore of the two remedies, and involves manual insertion of right hand up the offending shorts-leg, at which point the boxers are grabbed and manually pulled down into place with a firm tugging motion. I say this is hardcore because to the observer, you’ve got your hand up your own short legs – so it’s really for more extreme situations when you can afford not to be seen. A less-obvious variation of this method is sometimes executable, and involves putting a hand in the pocket on the creeping leg and grabbing the boxers through the pocket lining. Using this method, sometimes just holding the boxers in place can offer some relief.
Method B is more subtle, and therefore better suited for quick-fixes among company. It’s pretty simple: as you sense the action of walking sucking your boxers upward – you counter the effect by spinning the foot of the afflicted leg as it hits the ground, and stepping slightly out with the opposite foot. This releases the boxers from the grip of the upward pull and lets the creeping leg fall freely back into place. While not as effective as the method A, it’s more socially acceptable. Be aware, though, that even method B is not transparent? many a time my wife has asked me, “Why do you twist like that sometimes when you walk?” Dang boxers?
If neither of the above fixes is practical nor feasible, there are occasions where you just have to take you punishment and let ’em ride. Usually this happens at the worst possible time, such as walking around the 90 , 90% humidity streets in Taiwan with customers, dressed in nice clothes and sweating bullets. In this situation, it’s best to just endure the pain – I’ve found biting down on a stick and taking a shot of strong whiskey makes it almost bearable. Then when you get back to the hotel and strip off the Dockers, you’ll see one boxer leg completely rolled up like a giant thigh-condom. Grab that sucker and liberate it, feel the fresh air in places that have been stifled for hours, and breath a sigh of relief – you are now free. Stupid boxers?
Holy crap. See up there a few paragraphs where I used the word “finna?” I started to think maybe some people might not be familiar with the word, so I decided to look it up on Google and maybe link it to the definition. But, the results of the search are awesome enough to get a link of their own. Check out the “hip hop slang” entry in the online encyclopedia, Wikipedia: click here. I especially like how the word “fo” has, count ’em, three meanings. Oh man, rich.
Why do some people put a ‘t’ in the word “else?” Have you heard this band Hoobastank? I saw them perform live twice on the MTV lately, and man that dude can’t even come close to sangin’, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. He sounds awful, how come I don’t have a contract? I’m done. Dave out.