Edwin's Last Straw

If you don't remember Edwin & Eloise, then you should familiarize yourself with their disgusting, voyeuristic habits.  Well, it looked like things were the same this year.  Walking around at night, haunting the denizens of the full Tahoe house over Xmas break.  Business as usual.

They were at least nice enough to keep their waking-hour discretions in the guest room this year.

Not that they are any less demonic, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to finding Eloise's jokes mildly amusing after a 46 oz margarita at the local Mexican restaurant.

She didn't seem to find me half-shabby this year, either.  Probably all of the red wine.  Next thing you know... Bam!  Makin' babies.

Apparently, Edwin walked in while we were in the middle of doing the nasty.  It's hard to hear anything else going on, if you've ever heard me making whoopie.  But I was awakened by Eloise's screams as she pushed off my heavy, muscular arm and excused herself to the bathroom to clean up the mess I made.

Edwin had apparently been disregarding the rumors that Eloise was sleeping around on him.  The scene that he found solidified what he had heard, and it was too much for him to handle.  It's what the evil fucker deserved anyway.

Happy New Year,
~RoB

Inappropriate Undies

Apparently, the awkward theme of this week is underwear.

I feel like I could start a whole new blog detailing awkward moments in gym/sports club locker rooms.

Clearly, this prude over at PA Notes hasn't been reading my blog.

As I've mentioned earlier this week, my collection of undies (primarly, but not exclusively, boxers) has been slowly dwindling over the past couple of months.  There has been one addition, though.  While at Walmart earlier this year picking up some random, cheap supplies, I came across some Batman boxers.  Made for men.

From what I can remember of my childhood, I was obsessed with Batman.  I had a Batman cape, a Batman mask, Batman costumes, Batman undies, and a shit-ton of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle stuff.  TMNT is unrelated, but important to not slight them.  I am who I am today because of TMNT.  And the Power Rangers.  I'm getting sidetracked.  The point being that I had to own, and wear, these boxers.

This will all start coming together soon.  When I work out at the gym, I usually take a shower and change clothes before I go home.  Also, like most humans I know, I don't take off my pants and my underwear at the same time.  Sometimes, but not usually.

Anyway, on one particular day, I absentmindedly wore my Batman boxers to work out.  I just grabbed something and put it on.  Skip ahead 90 minutes or so.  I pull off my underwear in a room full of naked, loitering men.

BAM!  Creepy 26-year-old in children's underwear.

I can't find an ideal representation, so you'll have to merge these pictures in your head:

Is it possible for a grown man to be seen in Batman underwear and not be thought of as a pedophile?
Didn't think so.

I also don't think I'll be getting any babysitting requests from my naked pals at the gym,
~RoB

♫ I'm Not Wearing Underwear Today ♫

No, seriously.

We ran the dryer at our apartment 3 times yesterday.  Clothes never dried.  $4 down the tube, and I'm not wearing underwear.

For some reason, I haven't bought new underwear in like a decade.  So, we've (yes, Annie helps) been throwing old, holy boxers away a few at a time over the past month or two.  Now I don't really have much underwear left.  This is why I don't wear clothes.

I try to imagine the next person that's going to have to sit in this chair,
~RoB

Backpacking

It was really cold, and it was flowing much faster than this picture is showing.

Annie did a great job detailing my first experience backpacking.  We went all out for my first time, and I feel very accomplished afterward.  Sweet, darling, innocent Annie was nice enough to leave out some of the details more appropriate for my blog than hers:

We delayed our trip by a day because I didn't feel spectacular.  I was in full-on allergy mode, and my domestic partner's mother decided to poison me with a concoction of over the counter medication.  I've learned not to take dosing advice from her, even though she's half my weight.  She's a professional.

Bugs are damn annoying.  I was covered in 100% Deet which smells lethal.  Almost flammable.  Yet, there were no fires, so I couldn't roast 'mallows like I'd always imagined camping entailed.  I want s'mores if I'm walking my ass that far without a shower.

How's that for a view?

We had a wine platypus.  Yeah, most people hike with these little plastic, flimsy bottles filled with water.  We are not most people.  We poured a petite sirah into one of them before leaving.  This is a level of classiness not seen before in camping.  (Except it was designed specifically for wine, so I imagine it is a top seller in yuppie sporting goods stores.)

I didn't poop for over 24 hours.  This is/was a big deal.  You're asked to pack out any toilet paper you use.  You have no clue how much toilet paper I use to wipe my ass.  I'm not clean down there until you would blow your nose in the tissue after wiping.  You also have to dig a hole for your poop.  Nope, not worth it.

I experienced what it was like to skinny dip while being sober, in the full light of day.  Skinny dipping is way more awkward than I remember it being in the past, but those incidents were always clouded by the alcohol fairy (or at least the extreme blackness of night).

This was the view from my water seat above.

I got a little whiny in the morning.  Big surprise:  a fat guy on a thin mat resting on the ground didn't find himself very comfortable.  I also got really hot.  So, sleeping didn't go as well as planed.  ~RoB minus sleep becomes Dragon Rob!  Food helped a little, so did motion in the direction of the car.

You must separate yourself from your chapstick the entire time that it is dark out.  It is unacceptable.  I need my chapstick more than I need oxygen.  More than I need sex.  (If there was a better advertisement for Chapstick, I'd like to see it.)  Apparently bears like fruity smelling things, and it was the choice between luscious, soft, creamy lips or arm wrestling a grizzly.  My brain won the argument, but just barely.  I could probably take a bear if it had my last Cherry Chapstick.

Found a teddy bear saying "I <3 Chapstick". This was next to it.  WTF?

Apparently, I purchased a fancy, new, inflatable camping mat from Annie's dad's store (30% family discount!), and we're going out for 2 days in Pt. Reyes at the end of this month.  I'll either be really good at this soon, or I'll be craigslisting a fancy, new, inflatable camping mat from Annie's dad's store.  We all know I'm meant more for a fancy hotel downtown than a rustic campsite anyway.

Happy Camping,
~RoB

Now I'm the Culprit

I'm actually starting to really enjoy my weekly sauna visit.  It is getting easier to stay in there without feeling like I'm dying, I get a good sweat on, and I feel amazing as I'm walking out of the gym after my shower.  Though, my schedule is going to be off, now that I've finished teaching at one club.  I'll still find a way to fit it into my schedule once or twice a week.

I also still maintain that there is too much penis loitering around in sports club locker rooms.  Last night, for example, I saw two naked men just standing in the hallway talking to each other.  Stark naked.  How can you do that and keep a straight face?  Hell, how can you do that and maintain eye contact?  Another guy was standing in the mirror just looking at himself.  WTF?  Go home and stare at yourself naked.  I do.

Anyway, the most awkward moment in the sauna this week was my fault, entirely.  Everything gets locked in a locker, and you take a key on an elastic band along with you everywhere.  When I'm showering, it's under my towel.  When I'm sauna-ing, it's around my wrist.  Unless I start to get too hot.  Or if the key touches me a few minutes into it and I feel like I've burnt myself with a sauna-heated, gym locker key.  So, the key was sitting next to me for a few minutes.

I was all into the sauna.  Leaned back, eyes closed, dripping sweat.  Then I heard it.  The slight tink-tink of a triangle in the distance, or the scooting of keys beside me.  It took me a second, but then I almost shit myself once I realized what had happened.  Did an awkward nakedy-naked guy scoot up next to me?  Nope.  Worse.  My locker key slid between the slots of the bench, and now they were comfortably resting about 4 feet below me, out of reach of any part of my body.  The next thing I remember, the door opened and a gentleman that had been coming in and out of the sauna asked me if I was ok.

I was on all fours on the floor, butt naked, desperately trying to force my arm to fit in between the vertical slots of the wooden bench.  It was fruitless, yet I didn't immediately have any other ideas.  So, I tried everything from getting the boards to open up or slide, to trying to find a way to climb under the bench from the far end.  What else was I going to do?  Walk out to the front desk while completely nude and request that they help me get my key out of the sauna?  That sounds like the beginning of a gay porno.

Instead, I walked out and searched around for something to stick between the slots.  Q-tips, towels, combs, bags, a chair, stools... nothing.  Then, all the way in the back of the shower room, I saw it.  It was the janitor's closet.  Or custodian's closet.  Or whatever.  I prayed that it wasn't locked as I walked toward it, and it wasn't.  I grabbed some sort of long, threaded rod and managed to return my key to my hand in a minute or so.

I even maintained myself enough to actually get back into sauna-mode and hang out there for 10 more minutes.  Regardless, for 5 minutes or so, I had tragically fallen into every bad 'dropped soap' cliche there is.

So, yeah, who's coming sauna-ing with me?
~RoB

Gym Locker Rooms*

For those unawares, I now teach Zumba for a fancy sports club chain throughout the Bay Area.  This provides me a free membership, and I've been trying to take full advantage of it.  It'd be nice if I could get myself all sexy again, like when I graduated from high school.

There are so many things going on in a sports club locker room that life just doesn't prepare you for.  Thinking about watching the baseball game tonight?  Why not sit and watch it in the nude at the entrance to the locker room!  Want to grab a shower after your work out?  Don't be shy, walk up and down the aisles while you're butt naked to get a last few laps in before you wash yourself!  Have a clean towel in your hand?  Good.  Try not to use it to cover you at all, and throw it straight into the dirty pile once you've finished taking it on a tour of the locker room!  I'd love to use the sauna, I'm just not comfortable with sitting there for 15 minutes while you stare at me absolutely naked.  There are millions of clean towels laying around, would you like me to hand you one?

This is what we all imagine.

Though this is much closer to reality. Much closer.

Is it just me, or is there a tad bit too much nakedness going on in there?  Hey, I like to be naked, as we've already learned this week.  Hell, I've watched gay porn.  I have no problems at all with the naked male body.  But don't you think that we could calm down the amount of penis haphazardly loitering around?  Can't we go back to the shy nakedness we all had in middle/high school?

Also, there are things too awkward for me to think about you doing, let alone see you do.  Standing naked in front of a mirror to rub your entire body down with lotion is a bit much.  More than a bit much.  Honestly, I don't even think I'd enjoy seeing a girl do this after 30 seconds or so.  There are places on my body I try to only touch with soap, and lotion shouldn't be applied so vigorously that it starts to lather.

Finally, the naked, elderly male body is scary.  Should I plan on my balls really drooping down that low?  f.m.l.

*Updated
Today there was an absolutely naked man sitting in front of the mirror shaving (his face, thank god) with an electric shaver.  That really necessary?  To top it off, he was on his cell phone (I'm assuming, otherwise he was a lost homeless man) cell yelling about how dark and devastating his current divorce is.  Cover your balls, walk outside, and talk in the lobby so that you aren't interrupting the procession of loitering penises that are tromping around the room.  kthxbye.

Maybe I'm not as comfortable being naked as I thought, or maybe this will make it worse...
~RoB

Naked Roommate

What differentiates a nudist from someone who just likes to be naked?  Anything?

Let's start by clarifying that I don't think I'm physically attractive.  Though I am fairly happy with all parts of my body below my waistline (minus some acne and a few random patches of hair), I feel like my top half really brings down the total value.  I really don't think people should have to look at me naked, nor would I expect anyone to take pleasure in it.  That being said; I am naked all of the time.  Not in a sexual way.  I just like to come home from work, take off the big kid clothes, and walk around in my birthday suit.

This kind of makes me an awful roommate, though I don't think that my 3rd roommate knows.  (She's been unfortunate enough to see me in a towel and maybe my boxers a few times, but no major incidents yet.)  Annie certainly knows, and those close to her should send their condolences.  I feel like if we were ever to break up, the biggest catalyst (or habit she would take pleasure in ridding from her life) would be my almost-constant nudity.  If you have ever been in our apartment, you've stood where naked ~RoB has stood.  If you've ever sat on anything, chances are naked ~RoB has, too (except our dining room table, cuz those chairs aren't comfy for naked peeps).  I cook naked sometimes, I've cleaned the bathroom naked, I've worked out naked, I sleep naked, and I generally loiter around sans clothing.

I rarely think of it, but I've wondered a few times if anyone can ever see me through the windows.  It gets hot in our apartment this time of year, so I'm a big advocate of keeping our windows open for the breeze to flow through.  But is that exposing some of our poor neighbors to naked ~RoB, too?

I know two people from college that were self-proclaimed nudists.  Seriously.  But what is it that pushes you to make that last step and proclamation?  I have no interest in joining a colony.  I love volleyball, but I have no intention of ever playing it naked (my Herbal Essences bottles tell me that is the #1 pastime for nudist colonies).  Aside from some drunken incidents, I don't really have much interest in showing the whole world my penis.  Unless you ask.  Or happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Or happen to have eyes.

So, am I a nudist, or does everyone do this (except Annie)?
~RoB