Boxers or briefs?

I must admit, I consider this one of the silliest debates of our time. The gay mailing list I used to subscribe to errupted into regular flame-wars over their relative merits. Some people I know are very much partisans of one over the other. During my recent trip home for my father's birthday, I removed my pants in front of the family in order to iron them. "I trust no one will be offended," I said. My young nephew watched me with some curiosity and my sister-in-law told him, "See, it's okay to wear diapers since big boys like your Uncle Da wear them!"

I wear briefs for comfort reasons. My HUMONGOUS COCK just flops around too much in boxers. Often, when my boyfriend is lounging trouserless, his jewels just spill right out. What's the point of underwear that can't even keep your equipment in place? That's half the reason for wearing them. When I get a spontaneous hard-on, I'd like to know that it's being contained by by the poofy bit in the crotch of my pleated slacks. (When I'm wearing slacks, that is, which is when I'm at work. When I'm in black jeans at a gay bar, I want the WORLD TO KNOW!)

Yeah, they aren't particularly pretty. Particularly the white ones, which get too easily stained. And they show wear more easily. (Those holes that start just to one side of the fly and let my glans slip through are, paradoxically, part of my grounds for disparaging boxers. It strikes me they'd always feel like that.) But unless you're into the saggy pants look--still in the running for Worst Fashion Statement of All Time, btw--not many people will see them anyway. I have some special gear for, ahem, special occasions (or I just go BUTT NAKED) and the rest of the time, underpants is underpants. They is under.

With my boyfriend, I split the difference. No, I don't make him wear boxer-briefs. I want to see him put on briefs, but when he takes his pants off, I want him to be wearing boxers. I can't explain this. The best theory I've come up with is that I enjoy the unwrapping and boxers leave more to the imagination. However, the covering up process makes me sad and the briefs let me enjoy what I'll be missing just a tiny bit longer. *sigh*. Au revoir, ma petite cigale!

Synchronicity

Last night, monshu asked what I wanted to do this weekend and I said, "JOUSTING!" He laughed and I responded, "It's the state sport of Maryland, y'know!" I don't know why this was on my mind. I was born in Maryland, but I haven't lived there in decades. My uncle raises horses near Silver Springs, but if he's ever jousted, I haven't heard of it--and, besides, I never hear from him anyway. Mulling these things over a few days ago, I thought, Hmm, Maryland must be more 'horsey' than I knew. Not surprising, considering that I've only experienced it as a child and not a child of the horsey set.

In any case, this morning I heard a news report on the Maryland State Jousting Championship. Just so y'all know, this style of joust doesn't involve tilting at another rider. Jousters compete to schnag small rings (the smallest the size of a LifeSaver™) on the tips of their lances. The most interesting bit of the report for me was the news that jousting recently fended off a challenge to its state sport status from duckpins. (A form of bowling with pins so small it's possible to strike out by passing between them.) My dad's not a bowler, but it's a sport he's talked about fondly.

Still, my loyalty is with jousting. It's just so wonderfully archaic--not to mention classy. (Even if riders tend to wear jeans rather than jodhpurs.) Plenty of states, I'm sure, have inclusive, plebeian state sports that don't require thousands of dollars in annual expenditure to participate in. Let 'em have 'em! And be the battle queen of yore, Maryland! My Maryland!

Servicing the public

Every once in a great while, my job reveals a surprising passing resemblance to True Porn Clerk Stories. Moments ago, a man came with a printout and said, "I am looking for this book." I glanced at the title and thought We can't possibly have this title in our collection. "ILL" (interlibrary loan) was scrawled across the page and I wondered if maybe he was here to pick up a book ordered from another institution. "I KNOW YOU HAVE THIS BOOK!" he said, "AT PUBLIC LIBRARY, THEY TOLD ME YOU HAVE THIS BOOK!" So I looked it up in the catalog and, sure enough, we do have a copy.

In this case, however, "we" is "Special Collections", which is rather restrictive in its lending policies. I decided to prepare him for this. "By 'get', do you mean 'have a look at' or 'take out'? Because this book is in Special Collections and they don't loan books out." "WHY CAN'T I HAVE THIS BOOK? IT IS VERY HARD TO FIND THIS BOOK!" I decided to try a different tack. "Are you associated with this university? Because, if you aren't, you can't check anything out anyway." "WHY NOT? WHY IS IT SO HARD TO GET THIS BOOK? WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO FOR YOU TO LET ME SEE THIS BOOK?"

I tried to explain, in small words, that this institution existed primarily to serve the needs of members of the institution (as opposed to every loud, desperate, sketchy man who walked in off the street). I asked if he had tried Amazon. "I TRY AMAZON, THEY CAN'T GET THIS BOOK. WHY IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IS IT SO HARD TO GET THIS BOOK?...I CALL PUBLISHER, YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY WANT FOR THIS BOOK? $200!" He tried to show me the publisher's phone number. I told him I didn't need to see that; good capitalist that I am, I also tried to explain to him that a publisher had a right to charge whatever the market will bear for his publications. Wasted words! Count him among the millions who can't understand why all knowledge isn't simply free--in this, the freest of all countries no less!

Now I just wanted him gone, so I directed him to Special Collections. (A trying experience even with the most tractable of patrons.) "IT IS VERY HARD TO GET THIS BOOK!" he told me for at least the sixth time when I warned him once again that they might not actually let him see or photocopy the book. "I don't set their circulation policies," I replied. It seemed to finally dawn on him at that point that I had actually been helpful, because he finally apologised and thanked me. I felt bad for whoever was working the front desk at Spec this afternoon, but mostly I just felt relieved.

What was the title of the book this poor man so desperately needed? Penis size and enlargement : facts, fallacies and proven methods.