ConstantCommentary® Vol. XI, No. 168, November 11, 2010



Body by Hanes
(... I work out in my underwear)

I workout in my underwear. That's really all I need, otherwise I'd be flopping around. You could put an eye out that way, you know. (Yes, it's a dick joke. I'm back, baby.)

Thing is, about once a week someone knocks on the damn door -- usually a Jehovah's Witness -- so then I've got to put on my pants and wife beater tee-shirt to answer the door. You'd think I'd recognize the knock by now, but no. When I finally do answer, I get a Watchtower shoved into my face, sans Dylan or Hendrix. Not good.

But last night when I got the knock I said, "Screw it! I'm answering the door in my underwear. Enough's enough."

"Yes!" I said, probably a tad too loudly as I flung open the door.

The pair said nary a word, they just stared at me with those deer-in-the-headlights doe eyes.

"Bet you weren't expecting a guy in his underwear, were you? Yeah. Bet you weren't."

Again they said nothing, just stared.

"You're lucky this isn't last year. A fat guy in his underwear would have answered the door. Yeah. You wouldn't have liked that very much, would you? No, I bet not."

They continued to stare.

"Yeah. You'll think twice about knocking on this door again."

Still nothing.

"But since you girls are here, I'll take a box of the Lemon Chalet Cremes and a box of the Samoas."

What, what!!?? I lost 50 pounds for crissakes, I deserve some damn cookies.

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own.




Mike Jasper is a writer and musician living in Austin, Texas.

Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, he claims strong ties to Seattle, St. Petersburg, Florida and North Platte, Nebraska.


© 2010 by Mike Jasper, All Rights Reserved. ConstantCommentary® is published whenever Mike Jasper feels like it. All material is the responsibility of the author.