Is That Milk In Your Pants?

Do you get embarrassed for people the way I do?

Like, a few weeks ago, my son (who is 22, for context) had a friend of his over to our house and the two of them wanted to take a walk in the woods behind us. Our back gate is in real disrepair, so I have it wrapped up pretty good with bungee cords, etc, so that the dogs don't get out. As a result, the young men had to jump the fence to avoid the inconvenience of undoing it all. 

I happened to look out there and saw my son, on the other side, with his fists on his hips, waiting for his friend who looked not unlike a drunken sea-mammal trying to escape the shallows... He was wobbling atop the fence and I could hear faint groans of pain through the closed window as, presumably, the pointy metal dug into his gut. My son sort of looked around and scratched the back of his ear, obviously reluctant to offer help, which might have embarrassed his friend for the less-than-Olympic performance. Finally, the young chap lolled sideways and thudded onto his back into the dessicating leaves and loam on the other side. 

It was then that my son offered a hand, pulling him up and swiping leaves off of his back. 

I was embarrassed for the kid. 

Currently, I am embarrassed for men for being so oafish. Or, rather, so enslaved by machismo. 

I keep getting ads for jeans on my social media. It's time for new clothes, so I have been looking around, so, no surprise. But, it seems the new trend is "stretchy jeans." I know these have been around for awhile, but I mean really stretchy jeans. 

In a frequently occurring ad, the opening is a guy producing a gallon of milk from within the front of his pants. Point made? It seems the whole premise of the ad is that there is ample room in these jeans for one's manly bits. This ad (and virtually every ad) emphasizes the copious room there is for "the boys" and how there is "no more getting your ____ crushed by your jeans." 

Well, of course that's a problem for you, Captain Virility! And of course you, you studly, Disney Gaston of a fellow -- of course you need jeans that can fit a whole gallon of milk in the front. 

Oy. 

What a bunch of insipient gorillas men are. Picture the casual conversation; a bunch of friends standing around at happy hour; one dude running a finger around the rim of his beer mug and leaning sideways against the bar: "Yeah, these jeans are just cut better. I need room in the front, if you know what I'm saying..." (Cartoon hearts pop like bubbles around the heads of the ladies. [In his mind.])

The only intelligent person in this whole ridiculous picture is the marketing genious who came up with the idea: Bring 'em on board with adolescent vanity. Make it a given that they are so well- endowed that room in their jeans is a big concern. I'm going to go out on a limb and say it was a woman. 

It just leaves me...embarrassed for my own sex. 

The Chump (Who is Not Me)

Once upon a time, there was a fellow (not me, you understand) who went food-shopping because his wife (not mine, you understand), who usually did the food shopping, was recuperating from knee surgery. He wasn't used to food shopping, this fellow who is absolutely not me, but he had done it before -- back in the days before kids. He (this other fellow) went into this adventure feeling pretty confident.

And he did okay, this non-Chrissian chap, in general. Sure, he got non-fat creamer instead of half-and-half. And he did get regular cheese instead of 2%. Small errors, on the whole. On the opposite end, he managed to find (after some significant searching and a silent [but energetic] imagining that he was Indiana Jones exploring the Temple of the Frozen Menace) crumbled bleu cheese; an accomplishment of which he was exceedingly proud, and after which, in silent celebration, he stood heroically for a moment, next to his shopping cart, and ran an hand iconically across the brim of his imaginary fedora.

Finally -- a reason to use this painting!

Yes, this stalwart shopping-hero did okay.