Summertime is here. The best time for checking daddies out. Sweaty daddies. Daddies in shorts. Daddies shirtless. No shoes. Fuckin' hot.
I remember a couple of summers ago I was leaving an early dinner meeting in a right part of downtown, and I spotted the most striking man walking down the sidewalk. Trim, muscular build, a full head of silver hair, a baby blue sports shirt (looked expensive), beige shorts, AWESOME legs and bare bare bare feet. I kid you not. In the city. There he was, walking naked soled and carefree on a perfect spring day an hour before sunset.
I pulled over in an adjoining parking lot just to watch him. He strode into a high-end wine store and emerged a few moments later with a bottle in a small brown sack, obviously heading home for an evening of unwinding. How cool is that? I'll bet he does this a few times a month- comes home, gets more comfortable, and takes a barefoot stroll to pick up his vino.
I sure do hope to see him again.
Another favorite summer memory take me a decade back, attending an outdoor concert where it had only just stopped raining hours ago. The air was still cool and wet, and held the promise of a beautiful sunset. Seated next to us on the lawn was a heterosexual couple. The women had obviously over-planned the evening to the smallest, excruciating detail. She began unpacking a flawless picnic basket (you know, one of those retro kind that have leather straps to hold down all of the dinner wear.) Inside were matching plastic plates, glasses and napkins- ALL the same colors of creamy yellows, blues, greens and pinks. Her dress and hat, yes, also in the exact same color scheme. Then I see her husband. Hot, beefy, hairy chest peeking out of his sports shirt... that was yellow. Yes, creamy yellow. And his shorts were pink. Creamy pink. I kid you fucking not. She had actually dressed him. On his feet creamy green boats shoes sans socks. I actually snorted when I saw them. She was fussing up a storm as she spread out their creamy pink picnic blanket as he just sort of stood there looking defeated.
Soon, the other couple showed up for their double date. They seemed a bit more down to earth, as the typical social niceties began. What happened next was the most brilliant display of passive-aggressive behaviour I had ever scene. The guy kicks off his shoes to get ice cream. He walks, barefoot, through the very muddy venue, and returns with his naked feet CAKED in inches of mud. In a brazen show of carefree unawareness, he just plops down on the picnic area getting mud all over his wife's carefully picked out blanket. Sweet!
Throughout the evening she kept shooting disapproving glances at those muddy soles, which were getting that sickening pink blanket more and more dirty as the hours went by.
Fucking brilliant.
-OBG
I remember a couple of summers ago I was leaving an early dinner meeting in a right part of downtown, and I spotted the most striking man walking down the sidewalk. Trim, muscular build, a full head of silver hair, a baby blue sports shirt (looked expensive), beige shorts, AWESOME legs and bare bare bare feet. I kid you not. In the city. There he was, walking naked soled and carefree on a perfect spring day an hour before sunset.
I pulled over in an adjoining parking lot just to watch him. He strode into a high-end wine store and emerged a few moments later with a bottle in a small brown sack, obviously heading home for an evening of unwinding. How cool is that? I'll bet he does this a few times a month- comes home, gets more comfortable, and takes a barefoot stroll to pick up his vino.
I sure do hope to see him again.
Another favorite summer memory take me a decade back, attending an outdoor concert where it had only just stopped raining hours ago. The air was still cool and wet, and held the promise of a beautiful sunset. Seated next to us on the lawn was a heterosexual couple. The women had obviously over-planned the evening to the smallest, excruciating detail. She began unpacking a flawless picnic basket (you know, one of those retro kind that have leather straps to hold down all of the dinner wear.) Inside were matching plastic plates, glasses and napkins- ALL the same colors of creamy yellows, blues, greens and pinks. Her dress and hat, yes, also in the exact same color scheme. Then I see her husband. Hot, beefy, hairy chest peeking out of his sports shirt... that was yellow. Yes, creamy yellow. And his shorts were pink. Creamy pink. I kid you fucking not. She had actually dressed him. On his feet creamy green boats shoes sans socks. I actually snorted when I saw them. She was fussing up a storm as she spread out their creamy pink picnic blanket as he just sort of stood there looking defeated.
Soon, the other couple showed up for their double date. They seemed a bit more down to earth, as the typical social niceties began. What happened next was the most brilliant display of passive-aggressive behaviour I had ever scene. The guy kicks off his shoes to get ice cream. He walks, barefoot, through the very muddy venue, and returns with his naked feet CAKED in inches of mud. In a brazen show of carefree unawareness, he just plops down on the picnic area getting mud all over his wife's carefully picked out blanket. Sweet!
Throughout the evening she kept shooting disapproving glances at those muddy soles, which were getting that sickening pink blanket more and more dirty as the hours went by.
Fucking brilliant.
-OBG
1 comment:
I bet the first man's soles were black from walikng around the city barefoot? Am I wrong?
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