Note To Self

Stop that — seriously … get a grip!

You may recall that I recently admitted to being … not a fashion victim … I’m far too cool for that …

No … really … upon their arrival at my home one day … having let themselves in … my then girlfriend and a mutual friend were voiciferously amused to find me absent-mindedly grooving to the lame-arsed T.V. adverts in the background whilst focused on some activity or other — probably reading.

Without pausing to think about it … the words out of my mouth before even I knew what they were going to be … I replied “I’m so cool, I take the groove with me — I can can groove to anything.”

Which even I have to admit is a pretty cool thing to say — especially unpremeditated.

And you should see my violent green and black striped pullover that’s really an item of fashionware for young women but I don’t care about that — it’s GBH for the eyes … a brutal assault on everyone who sees it.

Once again, when called out on it … in the street, by a complete stranger, no less … my response was …

“You know why I can wear this pullover and you can’t?

Because …

  1. you’re not cool enough;
  2. you’re not man enough;
  3. you’re just too damn ugly!

Again, unpremeditated … out of my mouth before I knew what was happening in my brain … just unspeakably cool — I mean that’s self-confidence right there … and evidence of a quick brain … eloquence … just seriously stylish.

On top of that, I suspect the look of ultraviolence that … from his reaction … I guess must’ve crossed my face at that point kinda sealed the deal.

So … now we’ve established that I am … really and truly … much too cool for school, never mind for you … perhaps I could get on with the tale without any further interruption.



Right … where was I before I was so rudely interrupted again?

Ah, yes … I’m not a fashion victim but I do have a ‘look’ … a consciously chosen and perfected appearance … style.

And you may also recall that I recently had an underwear related misadventure …

So … part of the trouble with the underwear was/is that I have, of late, found myself obliged to spend far more time in Zone 3 than is good for anyone, let alone me, and the lack of … oh, God, anything but, more specifically … retail outlets left me unable to find any new underwear of the kind I prefer.

Of the alternatives, the only ones even resembling something that itself might be considered to be approaching tasteful … if you screw your eyes up and glance at it … rapidly … from the corner of your eye … had (brrrrrrr) some colour to them — what the Hell is wrong with people!? ¹

I had no choice though: the elastic had given in the old ones ² and the last thing I want to have happen after being knocked down by a bus and rushed to hospital is for some pretty young slip of a nurse (or two) to be horrified by the state of my underwear and decide not to ask for my phone number after all.

Anyway … the problem is that I have caught myself colour co-ordinating my underwear with whatever clothes I’m thinking of wearing.

Now that’s just getting out of hand!

The whole point of my look is that I can just fall out of bed, grab the first things within reach, sling them on and … sixty seconds later … still look better than you ever will—somewhat dishevelled … a touch rough … almost as though I’d recently clambered out of bed … clearly bohemian … a good-looking rebel who lives by his own rules … possibly a DJ or something equally as cool … and with such innate style and panache that, even looking that rough, you just wanna drag me back to your own bed … or mine, it doesn’t matter, so long as it happens now … in fact, what about the boutique’s changing rooms here!? 😉

At the point where I’m stopping to think about it, something has gone seriously awry.

Damn you, Zone 3 … you’re seriously cramping my style!

¹ Black is the only colour any man needs his underwear to be!

² They really are called upon to put in sterling performance, given my <ahem> ‘physique’, let me tell you … and don’t last all that long at the best of times — I know, I know … but we’re discussing my ‘jock’ here … so, it seems only appropriate to be a ‘jock’ about it ³.

³ Besides … you love it really 😉



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Where Angels Fear

There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live and too rare to die.