When I was eleven years old, or so, my mother came home with an armload of another kid’s underwear. Horrified all the way down to my skeleton, I listened to her explain that the boy’s mother gave them to her, because they were too small for him.
I couldn’t believe what was happening before me. She put the big pile of unthinkables into my top drawer, and apparently believed I was going to wear them. I told her differently, and an argument ensued.
“Oh Jeff, they’ve all been washed!” she yelled, as if that made the tiniest of differences. A whole other set of genitalia had been dropped into those things; I didn’t even want to be in the same room as them. It wouldn’t have mattered if they’d been boiled in bleach.
My mother thought I was being overly difficult, but I wasn’t playing around. I could see a faint washed-out skidmark in one of the pairs near the top of the pile. It was incomprehensible that she’d expect me to put them on. I’m shaking my head even now, thirty-five years later, in disbelief.
She finally got mad, and stormed out of the room.
I looked into my sock and underwear drawer, and saw the horrible contraband coming in direct contact with my things. My brother had been lurking and keeping quiet, but after our mother left he buckled over in laughter. Even though there was nothing – nothing! – funny about it.
Under the circumstances I had only one real option. I found a pencil, or a ruler, and started rearranging stuff in the drawer. I moved all my good underwear over to the left side, and the kid’s from across the street(!?) to the right. Then I built a barrier in the middle, using a wall of socks.
I figured if any foreign ball spores leaped off those JCPenney Towncrafts, only my feet were at risk. And I walked around barefoot all the time, through spit and vomit probably, so my feet could very likely handle the influx.
When my dad got home from work, my mom told him the story. And, to my immense relief, he took my side. He told my mother it was kind of unreasonable to ask a boy to wear another boy’s underwear. Whew.
But some kind of compromise was reached, and I can’t remember the details. I didn’t have to actually wear the terrible things, but they remained in my drawer for many months – way over to the right.
It’s a wonder I didn’t end up in the wacky shack.
And why am I bringing up this story, you ask? Because I was talking to my Mom yesterday, and she told me the kid from across the street had recently undergone a full hip replacement.
“Remember when you tried to make me wear his underwear?” I asked.
“What?” she said, confused.
“His mother gave you a load of his nasty white briefs, and you wanted me to wear them. One had a skidmark in it!”
“Oh Jeff, you know that never happened.”
And so it goes…
I’ve noticed that a few Surf Reporters have become a bit exasperated recently, because their comments were sent to “moderation,” and stayed there for a long time. So, I thought I’d take a moment to explain…
Website comments are constantly bombarded with spam. It’s as bad, if not worse, as email. And to keep the crap from splashing onto the site, I have a filter installed, called Akismet. It does a pretty good job (3708 spam messages caught since we moved to WordPress), but it’s not perfect.
Therefore… I also have it configured so the first comment from an IP address, or with an unrecognized email address, has to be approved by me. I weed out a lot of garbage that way, almost every day of the week.
So, if you’ve never posted a comment before, are using a new computer, or type in a novelty email address, your message will be sent to purgatory. And if that happens while I’m at work, it’ll likely stay there for a while.
The good news: after you’re approved once, your messages will go straight to the site, without delay. It’s just that first one that might be delayed. You know, so I can be sure you’re not trying to sell sex “vacations” to Singapore, or whatever.
And that’s the reason some of your comments go into moderation. This tutorial was brought to you by the makers of the new Aveeno Apricot Ass Mask — because your ass deserves the very best.
Finally, I have a quick and simple Question for you guys. I’d like to know what musicians, bands or individual artists, have the most annoying fans.
A few leap immediately to my mind: Radiohead, Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Grateful Dead…
Help me complete the list, won’t you? Use the (lightly moderated) comments section below, and we’ll try to get a handle on this most pressing of issues.
And that’s all for today, boys and girls.
We’ll do it again tomorrow.
Oh I love midg – little people. They’re so muscular.
Any band that attracts the “Gray Ponytail” sect.
Is there really anything sadder?
What it says:
At 18 – I’m a rebel!
At 28 – I’m barley employable!
At 38 – I’m unemployed!
At 48 – I’m a loser!
At 58 – I’m living on your tax dollars!
I’m late to the party, but I have to recommend Heavy Metal Parking Lot on DVD. Link It is a low budget documentary shot in the parking lot of the Capital Centre prior to a 1986 Judas Priest concert. I can’t say that all the fans are totally annoying, but it is a great time capsule. As a bonus, the DVD also has Neil Diamond Parking Lot and Harry Potter Parking Lot as featurettes.
The most annoying fans are the fans of the bands and or musicians I don’t like.
Agreed, Susan in NWPA. ICP’s Juggalos make you wish some parents would just eat their young.
Jimmy Buffett fans irritate me. It’s a bunch of office dwellers in tacky shirts who think it’s not a party until the lime hits the shitty sub-par beer. Love Buffett’s music, but the fans annoy.
douchewaffles- damn Nova, that is one great word.
I hate Jack Johnson, the high horse he rode in on,his fans, and everything they stand for.
wow, I feel so good now.
The fans of the Cornelius Brother & Sister Rose are the worst! Treat her like a lady indeed!!
“The good news: after you’re approved once, your messages will go straight to the site, without delay. It’s just that first one that might be delayed. You know, so I can be sure you’re not trying to sell sex “vacations” to Singapore, or whatever.”
What if you are a regular poster selling sex vacations to singapore, or a reasonably singapore like vacation spot, like south charleston?
In college a dorm-mate was doing his laundry, had just loaded a new load, when another dorm-mate came in with a handful of underwear, and asked the other guy if he could toss the undies in with the guy’s load, since the undie-guy only had a small amount to wash, and didn’t want to pay for a whole load. The request was met with horrified disbelief from the guy paying for the load, who flatly refused the request. I couldn’t blame him.
I must have started the Jimmy Buffett hate club. Remember folks thats Buffett with two tees.
@Swami Bologna – must have been the apparent skid marks that hit the refusal button. As long as his name was stenciled on them or he had them in a wash bag and they were tightie whities and I was using bleach (lots of bleach), I wouldn’t mind sharing the wash. When I was in the Navy, we did not have individual washes. Everyone’s clothes got washed communally and you were responsible for separating your clothes in the appropriate bags and you better have had your name on them. Any whites that got mixed in the colored clothes usual came out blue. So if you see any Navy guys with blue tee shirts, well you know why now. Beside, no one had six months of underwear stowed onboard. No way, no how, I shit you not.
I’ve sold lots of used panties on eBay. What’s odd is that all the buyers were men. I’m pretty sure Farty bought some from me.
I don’t care. I’ll wear used underware. Worst case scenario, what’s gonna happen? I’ll wash it first, I’m not gross or nothin’. Even if there’s an old skid mark, the bleach disinfects it. It’s a clean skid mark at that point. Germs are good for us by the way. If it don’t kill us then we’re immune to it. Rock on. Drink Red Bull. They pay me when I say that. (not really, I’ll probably get sued actually).
I can’t do used shoes either. I got plantar’s warts on my feet from a dorm shower once in undergrad and all it took was 10 days of hobbling around on crutches because the freaking podiatrist cut holes in my feet…. that is full-on phobia starter right there.
I find most DMB fans annoying too. Not all… I agree that older ones tend to be normal. South of the 30s is where it gets scary – drunken frat boys and their skanks.
radiohead is a great band, and probably more talented than most. phish another talented band and both of them are a bunch of fun to dance to. just check your generalizations at the door at most shows, and you could have a great time. I do have to be a huge hypocrite though, and say anyone who kept a hairband on the radio one day longer than they already were (by buying a record) should have all their Mp3’s replaced with Cheeseburger In Paradise.
brian–Maybe they could just have all their MP3s or CDs replaced by Wendy’s Cheeseburgers….
Other people’s underwear. Ye gods. For me, the issue never arose as I was the only girl in a world of boys (and while I did wear my little brother’s underwear (bought before he was old enough for it) for a short time because my uncle told me I could become a boy). But I do remember having the same reaction to being made to share sodas with other kids–those kids and their foul sluuuuurp where you just KNEW they were letting some mouthed around soda dribble back into the sraw/can/cup… I’d go thirsty for hours in a hot car. Still will.
When my Grandmother died, Granddaddy tried to give away her bras and panties. Mom informed him that you throw those away in the nicest voice possible. His response, “What? I paid good money for those! I’m not throwing them away!”
Even now when friends stay and accidentally leave behind underwear in the freshly washed pile, I can’t bring myself to touch them. Gives me a shiver thinking about it…. Best update for ages, by the way! Me and my wife pissed ourselves laughing all the way through!