UnpleasantlySexy

Oy! I've been home sick for two days now, and holy bat-boogers, it sucks. Plus, Julia's in Washington D.C. from yesterday through next Tuesday, so I can't whine as much as I'd like.

With nothing to do except remain within sprinting distance of a bathroom, I figured, "What the hey...guess I'll write a blog post." Then I started writing this. And in that order, too.

Despite the risk, I did attempt a brief outing today (because comic books and golf stuff actually transcend the human physical plane) to the comic shop and the Golfsmith planetary headquarters - a relative Mecca for old men everywhere - and the "geezer chic" younger guys like myself.

I found a used club for thirty bucks that normally costs over a hundred, and I was super excited to try it out in their "virtual range." See, they have this little room where you can hit real golf balls with real clubs, and the thingy will track everything you do, showing a virtual ball on a big screen that reflects exactly how you hit it in real life. Wow! Coolest. Videogame. Ever.

My successful thrift shopping and mind-boggling golf-related technology is beside the point, however.

Here's the funny part: when I went into the virtual golf-a-ma-jiggy, my fever temporarily broke, causing me to immediately start sweating PROFUSELY - particularly from the top of my head. I walked into the room looking somewhat normal, and only minutes later, emerged sopping wet, so much so that my button-up shirt had turned nearly transparent. Gross. So I beelined for the nearest AC ceiling vent to cool/dry off.

Aha! The next funny part: after standing beneath the wonderfully cold AC blowers, well...um...yeah...I had some serious nipple action going on. Creepy, I know, but it happened, and hey - at least I'm DOING a blog post, right? Even worse, it was so severe that it actually became really uncomfortable, and I became quite self-conscious. At least, more self-conscious than I typically am, in regards to my nipples.

Now, after the fact, I am pretty certain that no one could tell the amazing transformation I had undergone just by looking at me. At the time, though, it felt like I had baby thumbs on my chest, pointing the way to wherever I walked. So naturally, I kinda crossed my arms a lot and pulled my shirt away from my chest periodically (to keep it from sticking to the sweat and showing off my "pokies," as I have christened them). For no good reason whatsoever, this behavior attracted the attention of the Golfsmith security staff. Given my own security experience, I can usually spot an in-store security guy rather easily, and I can now tell you that it's REALLY easy when there are three of them, all following me around.

Thus, after a comical series of bobs and weaves through several racks of products, I simply turned and approached one of them. He got a little spooked and his eyes immediately went to the other two guys (big mistake, little fella - identifying your homies like that. What if I'd been a real crook, huh?). To defuse the tension, I said, "Well, I know you guys have been watching me for the last few minutes, and if it helps, I can explain my behavior." I told him that my fever just broke, and that I was cruising around beneath the AC vents to cool down. To his credit, he was totally cool about it, and he apologized profusely for interrupting me.

The thing is, I still was worried about the nipple action, and in such an awkward situation to begin with, I learned that my vanity is fully capable of seizing control of my hands (much to my brain's aggravation). And so, holding a golf club and a couple other things in my left hand, my vanity gripped my empty right hand and very casually cupped it over my left nipple.

Using only his eyeballs, the Golfsmith guy said: "Please go back to your planet, space-gargoyle, and do not even consider mating with our females during your stay here."

I love providing other people with cautious tales for their children.



You know, the more I write in this blog, the more I discover how disgusting and weird I am. I should probably take steps to change that, but I really can't be bothered, and if I just tell everyone in advance, expectations will be lowered all around.


S