Ahem. There is a young man sitting at the table in front of the window at the Starbucks from which I am working right now.
He likes to wear those pants that hang down to roughly the knee area. He also has on oversized striped boxers, which seem to prefer the company of his jeans to that of his hips.
Every time he stands up (which he has done at least four hundred times now), his entire…uh...bottom region…falls right on out in front of the window.
There is a young lady sitting near me, and every time he stands up and gives us the show, we can’t help it. We exchange glances.
Then, we laugh.
OK, now that I’ve stopped laughing with my new friend, he just got up to walk away.
First, he gave us the show – again. Then, he started walking, and he has to walk like a geisha due to the jeans grabbing him around the thighs in a loving embrace. Little tiny mincing steps, one foot right in front of the other.
Oh my dog.
He looks like a total dufus. I mean, he is reinventing the notion of the dufus. He is the incarnation of Dufa, Lord High God of the Dufus Philosophy.
I almost want to run after him and shove a fiver down his pants…you know, as an appropriate offering to the Great God Dufa…
(And now my new friend has shrieked, “OHMYGAWD, are you going to PUBLISH that?!” Yes. Yes I am. I am going to tell the entire Internet – or at least the two people who are actually reading my blog. Because I am Evil. Not merely evil. Eeeeeeeevil. BWA-HAHAHAHAHA!)
All Hail Lord Dufa, patron of Idiots and Exhibitor of Private Parts…!
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