underwear acquisitions
Friday, Jan. 19, 2007 - 21:25

Before we begin: I'm sure I've used cocoa butter and yes the name implies a certain something but my only excuse is that I am terribly terribly slow. But if I'd known I could go around smelling like chocolate! Oh my, how different my life might have been.

Now: my underwear.

Recall, and I'm sure you do, the time I told you I've never worn a g-string (aka thong, for you people who wear flip-flops on your feet). I'm very conservative, I suppose, when it comes to my vagina and my butt. I won't change tampons (I mean I won't switch brands), and I don't like underwear up my butt. It's who I am, it's how I do things.

Recently, or actually a long time ago now, I began to realize that my old underwears are all too big for me. Yeah yeah so I lost like 15, 20, 25 pounds four years ago. But you don't just throw out perfectly good underwear, do you?

So anyway I needed new underwear.

I went to Costco a few weeks ago. I saw a box of underwear, lovely colors, mint green! Green underwear! I didn't buy the box because I am an anti-shopper, but I went to bed that night with thoughts of mint green underwear and with plans to go back the next day when my sister was in town. Went back. Box gone. Had to settle for pink, blue, and white. Pink blue and white! Blah! But whatever.

Welcome to the new year, and I'm out and about on Capitol Hill in Seattle, talking to my (other) sister on the phone, walking back to Kevin's apartment, when lo! What do I spy on the rainy sidewalk! A pile of sodden underwears! But wait, before you barf, let me explain that the tags were still on these underwears. They were brand new! Albeit wet, and on the sidewalk a block from the crackfest that is Broadway.

There was also an empty earring card thing, what they attach earrings to when they sell them. Apparently there had been some sort of consumerism that had occurred, but maybe minds had been changed. Or maybe it was all stolen.

But four pairs of underwear: three boy-cut in black, gray, and maroon, and one black g-string. I was tempted, oh yes. They were brand new! But wet. And abandoned for unclear reasons. And what would Kevin think? Aye, there's the rub.

I went up to his place. I told him about the tempting pile of underwear. Luckily he was drunk and stoned. "Did you get them?" he asked. "No, should I?" I said. "I have a washing machine," he said. I needed no further encouragement.

So now I own a g-string. I put it on once (after it was washed OBVIOUSLY) and it was disgusting and I immediately took it off. But the others are nice. They were expensive too. Not to me though.