Atomic Wedgies and Packing Fails

It’s underwear week here at The Great Unwashed. Oh heck, who am I kidding it’s always underwear week. I might as well change my blog’s name to “The Great Underpants”, given how often I discuss my bikini briefs. In fact, if either “underpants” or “underwear” are typed into the search bar, you’ll come up with about fifteen  entries, which considering that I’ve written just over one hundred and fifty posts here,  means about ten percent of the time I’m expounding on my skivvies.

I’m spending the weekend at my Dad’s house. For once in my life I was all “Boo Yah, take that, life!” because I remembered to bring not only the paint that my friend requested but also a puzzle for my uncle and I followed that up with storing the gift cards to shop at the sweet, sweet outlet store near my grandmother’s in the outside pocket of my weekend bag. I was feeling high and mighty having conquered the packing monster whom I normally lose battles with.

The Packing Monster has a laugh like Bowser from the Nintendo 64 Mario game. (Photo Credit : tidyawaytoday.wordpress.com)

The Packing Monster has a laugh like Bowser from the Nintendo 64 Mario game. (Photo Credit : tidyawaytoday.wordpress.com)

Then, while dressing to go to church this morning I reached into my trusty suitcase and pulled out tights, a skirt, an undershirt, a top but no underwear. And it was then that I heard the packing monster chortling it’s hearty laugh all the way from my home two hours away. “Ha ha ha” the packing monster guffawed, “looking for these?” it asked, holding up a pair of my underoos with a menacing smile. Of course, this entire scene occurred in my mind while I contemplated whether praying commando was a sin or not, and if my copy of “Strong’s Concordance of the Bible” could answer such a question.

Without consulting my concordance, I concluded that, while not a sin reciting the Lord’s Prayer in only a short skirt and tights was not ideal. Holding up yesterday’s unmentionables, I grimaced; I had both travelled and run seven kilometers in them. Not a great solution. With a heavy heart, I headed towards the chest of drawers that once held my entire wardrobe but is now a home for odds and ends that don’t seem to belong anywhere.

And that’s where I found them; underpants so giant that they make the pair that I bought for fifty cents which can be folded down over my jeans to create a thick lacy belt look small. A pair of underpants so enormous that once, Santa’s sack ripped and he considered using the briefs as a substitute but decided they were too roomy and gifts could potentially fall out.

I'm not certain how they managed to fit in my drawer. (Photo Credit : fark.com)

I’m not certain how they managed to fit in my drawer. (Photo Credit : fark.com)

Those were the undergarments I donned this morning. On the bright side, if it rains I won’t give myself a wedgie when I reach backwards and pull my underwear up over my head to protect my hair because the elastic band is already sitting just under my shoulder blades to begin with.

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You Should See My Underpants

Wait. That came out wrong. The title was supposed to be like the joke in “Uncle Buck” when Macaulay Culkin walks into the kitchen and sees this.

(Photo Credit: wwwfyeo.blogspot.com)

(Photo Credit: wwwfyeo.blogspot.com)

Then John Candy adds “You should see the toast I couldn’t even fit it through the door.” The viewers never actually see the toast, much like my underpants. The title meant to imply that my underpants are really colourful. Tragically I forgot about the first part of that joke, which was the giant pancake, hence I should have started with a photo of my ridiculous ensemble for today. A better writer might have changed the title, however here at The Great Unwashed, we aspire to calamity not perfection, so the title stays despite the fact that it comes off as “Hey internet, are you feeling hot because I am. Maybe you should drop by my place for some tequila.” which is a lot to communicate in such a short, awkwardly written title, but there it is.

One of the benefits of going back to school, is that I’m able to express my true self with my clothing. In classes, there is no one to ask you not to come to work tomorrow because you insist on dressing like a colour blind rodeo clown. There are only confused eighteen year olds with camera phones, but I’ve always loved having my picture taken. And I can only imagine the lovely statements they’ll make about my fashion choices when they put the images online. Thus, with further adieu here is my outfit of the day.

Yes those ARE tights underneath pants. I  tend towards Mormon modesty chic.

Yes those ARE tights underneath pants. I tend towards Mormon modesty chic.

I know what you’re thinking. It’s glorious, and you didn’t even see it with my green and white monster mitts. And once again we’re not even going to mention hues of my undergarments are.

 

Vintage Underpants: The Great Untapped Resource

Among my family and friends, I am known for being frugal. I go to great lengths to protect both the environment and my pocketbook. As a die hard conservationist, I am always on the look out for new uses for old possessions. While studying a pair of holey underoos the other day, an idea came to me; underpants- a long ignored, near natural resource. Found in every home and often on many a person, this sometimes hot, sweaty commodity has many uses.

Look out solar power, granny panties are about to to become the next big thing in environmentalism. (Photo Credit: target.com)

Look out solar power, granny panties are about to become the next big thing in environmentalism. (Photo Credit: target.com)

A Protest Against The Neighbour’s Annoying Wind Chimes

Can’t bring yourself to steal that tinkling nuisance, that keeps you awake, from the house next door? Tie your husband’s old tightie whities together in an artful pattern and string them proudly across your house like a set of summer cotton Christmas lights. Then offer to make a trade with your neighbour; you take down yours and I’ll take down mine.

Just wait until you see my boxer brief Christmas wreath. (Photo Credit: tillerytimes.blogspot.com)

Just wait until you see my boxer brief Christmas wreath. (Photo Credit: tillerytimes.blogspot.com)

A Quilt That You’ll Never Have To Share

Stitching your old undergarments into the world’s grossest blanket is a win win winter situation; warm toes and you’ll never worry about anyone taking it. Unless of course you own a dog, in which case that baby’ll be toast or possibly an appetizer depending on the time of day that your canine eats it. Women’s underwear are the most common item to be surgically removed from dogs’ stomachs

Women's underwear are the most common item to be surgically removed from dogs' stomachs. Also I feel like this artist would appreciate a underpants quilt. (Photo Credit: www.bitrebels.com)

This artist would appreciate a underpants quilt. (Photo Credit: http://www.bitrebels.com)

Bring Your Family Closer By Instilling a Uniform

Pull a Madonna and force your nearest and dearest to wear their old boxer briefs outside of their clothing at all times. The teasing and humiliation will inspire a sense of loyalty as you take turns shielding one another from mocking.

Middle age husbands rock this look. (Photo Credit : main.stylelist.com)

Middle age husbands rock this look. Or at least that’s what you’ll need to tell them. (Photo Credit : main.stylelist.com)

Use It Up, Wear It Out, Make It Work, Do Without

Old underwear are never truly used up, there’s always a swath of fabric to be saved, use these tiny scraps to patch your other less worn underwear. Who needs Victoria Secret when you have underpants that look like they were made by a schizophrenic five year old wielding a glue gun? Of course you could do without, but that option gets pretty chilly in Canada for most of the year and you’d be depriving yourself of what is clearly the next big trend in environmentalism.

These are just a couple of suggestions for your old bikini briefs. Do you have any more? Share them in the comments!

The Recipe For An Awesome Summer: Me and Grandpa’s Underpants

I have an intimate and unintentional relationship with my grandfather’s boxer briefs.

I must preface this story with the following comments. My paternal grandmother grew up during the Great Depression. It was a difficult period in Canada’s history but the people were resourceful and used objects eight different ways until the item disintegrated into dust. And then they made decorative wall hangings out of the dust.

My grandmother never lost this resourcefulness; she was often seen dumpster diving around the neighbourhood for useful items that people had carelessly discarded. She would then give the furniture new life by stripping and recovering it. I’ve always admired my Grandma’s remarkable ability to use items in every imaginable way. My concern for the environment and limiting the amount of material waste I produce comes from watching my grandmother create wonderful pieces from reclaimed furniture.

This was how I ended up staining an oak chest in my grandparent’s basement one summer. I had covered the cost of the stain and the chest but my grandmother had kindly offered to provide the rest of the materials which included masks, gloves and rags.

“Thanks Grandma for helping me.” I said as we worked the stain into the wood.

“Oh you’re welcome dear.” She replied kindly. Glancing over at my work my grandmother commented “You’re going to need to use a new rag that one has to be changed.”

Looking at the stain saturated cloth in my hand I hesitated “Grandma, I don’t want to use all of your rags.”

“Oh don’t worry dear, Grandpa’s old underwear has lots of uses.”

English: I put some boxers in the floor

I don’t want to know the other uses.(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If I hadn’t been wearing a mask my grandmother would have seen my mouth drop open in horror and disbelief. I stared at my hand which would now always be the hand that had touched Grandpa’s underwear. No longer did I have a left and right hand, for years after this I would have my right hand and the Grandpa’s underwear hand. Writing was quite difficult in grade eight as I had previously been a lefty. Also I lost the “Best Summer Contest” on the first day back at school that year.