This morning at the gym I saw something weird. Now, I’m saying this after spending the afternoon in Hollywood, during a road closure, where there were many extreme sights and many people who would stand out as bizarre in a small town or even another city. None of them were blogworthy, not even the busty blonde in a halter top who was jumping up and down repeatedly on the sidewalk just off of Hollywood Blvd. I did enjoy the gaggle of giggly secretarial-types, half on cell-phones, who went into the porn store. Likewise, I appreciated the meticulously dressed and made up stern older man who didn’t remove his toothpick before being effusively kissed by his young and exuberant friend.
No, the morning sighting was stranger, and infinitely more disturbing. A man in his 60s; slight paunch, receding hairline, you know, normal, but wearing white bicycle shorts so tight they were transparent, emphasizing the pile of padding in his genital region. That was chillingly awful, and I apologize if you get nightmares.
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