Pants II!

I am in the bedroom with the Missus after having a shower and I am sporting the much-derided and recently purchased Y-fronts.
'I don't think they look too bad. They look a bit retro sporty,' I say in their defence.
'They look awful,' replies the Missus.
'Well they are very comfortable.'
'They are horrendous. I may well burn them if you leave them anywhere near me.'
'Well I am going to wear these pants with pride,' I state aiming to end a discussion that is clearly not going in my favour.

The Missus smirks.
'You should wear them at Pride... with nothing else.'

Pants I!

Me and the Missus are going on holiday for two weeks so I cycle into town to make the last of my holiday purchases, namely a few t-shirts and some new boxer shorts.

So I fold up my bike and nip into Uni-Qlo and grab two t-shirts, a very funky polo shirt and what I assume are four pairs of boxer shorts. Job done.

So I arrive home and the Missus, the Boy and the Boy's Girlfriend are sat in the kitchen. So the Missus inquires about my shopping trip.
'How did it go?'
'I'll show you...'

So I reach into my rucksack and pull out the two t-shirts.
'Suppose they're OK,' says the Missus.

Then I go for the banker and pull out the polo shirt. The Boy takes a look and sniggers while the Missus smiles the smile she reserves for children with learning difficulties.
'You don't like it, do you?' I ask.
'It's a little...'
'Gay.' adds the Boy.

So I try the polo shirt on and they are right, prompting the Missus to add:
'It looks like you are a straight man trying to channel his inner gay.'

But worse then follows...
'Well at least the boxer shorts are nice!' I add flinging them on the table.

It is only when I open the second packet that I realise I have have picked up some Y-fronts by mistake. And they are horrible Y-fronts. The sort of Y-fronts a pensioner with a wee-stained truss would turn his nose up at.

The Boy is now giggling uncontrollably until the Boy's Girlfriend tells him to stop. I am beaten. I admit defeat.
'See what happens when you don't come clothes shopping with me!'

The Missus gives me a hug.
'Don't worry,' she says. 'It will never happen again.'

Old People...

I generally like old people. But I now have an exception to this rule and that is the old woman who has a habit of shuffling past From Beer To Paternity Towers when I am putting the rubbish bin out.

The first night I saw her she smiled at me. So I smiled back and she asked me a question that I didn't quite catch so I smiled and said something bland back.

But I saw her a week later and she asked what sounded like the same question again, which was:
'Are you moving house?'

I've now seen her twice since and she has asked exactly the same question and, to be frank, I think she's taking the piss by implying that I look like I live in a rubbish bin.

And to think I gave to Help The Aged at the weekend. The sarcastic old cow.

Making The Grade...

Several of my peers graded for their black belts a few weeks ago. I had hoped to grade alongside them but even though I'd been putting the hours in I wasn't up to speed. This was frustrating.

Then I injured my knee so I couldn't continue training to start making the necessary improvements I needed to make to ensure I'd be ready for the next grading in November. And that was really frustrating.

I still attended the grading, though, to support my wannabe black belt colleagues. The Other Woman also graded and was fab. Because we see other socially and have a flirty banter which borders on the occasionally filthy I sometimes forget how she's a strong martial artist in her own right. It was good to watch her and be reminded of this.

There was also quite an emotional moment at the end of the grading when the Other Woman Who Loves Other Women was presented with her black belt. The OWWLOW cried. I was pretty close myself.

It's heartening to see the people you love do good stuff and be rewarded for it. It also offers you resolve to ensure those days come for you, no matter how far off they may seem at the moment...