blogging gobbledygook and such

You know, the naughty, misbehaving ones that refuse to not give you a wedgie at the most inopportune of times.

Like when you’re in a language class when an accidental butt floss incident happens. But you’re too lazy to traipse down the stairs to the filthy toilets to pull that offensive wedgie away from your arse in .729 second flat.

So, still sitting in your chair, you pretend to smoothen the creases of your lower clothing, trousers or skirt, while you sneakily inch your hand under your derriere to give it a quick little tweak.

But it doesn’t work. You need to stand up and drag that nasty wandering underpants away like you’ve forced a restraining order on it. But you’re still too lazy to go to the washroom to do it. Besides, you’d miss part of the lesson, and you know how much you stink in learning said language.

So you decide to wait it out, until class is over before you pop over to the ladies (or men’s).

Unfortunately, while you’re waiting, the wedged feeling only worsens, to the point that it is almost unbearable. You refuse to go to the toilet, there’s only 15 minutes left before the class is over.

You thought you’d try butt-clenching, or unclenching, with the logic that the arse muscles are equipped with enough power to move a piece of disobedient cloth away from your sensitive crack. Which is really illogical thinking, and is shortly proven an attempt that is absolutely pointless. If anything, it only makes the wedged feeling all the more intolerable.

Thinking fidgeting might help, you start to move around your seat. You shimmy, gyrate and shake your booty in that enclosed space of a student’s chair (the kind with the tiny foldable table). Sadly, your physical efforts can not match the higher powers of the obstinate underpants.

You are just a breath away from jumping up and give your resolution a mental “Fuckkit!” when your lecturer says, “Okay, that’s all for today!”

In a flash, you pack your bags and rush out of the door like you’ve another kind of arse emergency.

No thongs and anal sex for this individual, that’s for sure.

Comments on: "Ever suffered from wandering underpants?" (3)

  1. lovelyloey said:

    Haha, it’s just like having a stone in your shoes but can’t take off your shoes to shake it out because you have a hole in your sock. Ok, maybe take that and times 200.

    sulz: times 200 should refer to the potential humiliation factor if caught with hand in between arse. lol

  2. timethief said:

    Ha! Ha! Ha! This is an experience we have all shared and then when we got home we tore off the wretched offending item and threw it in the garbage. This blog post was written and amusing sulz. I liked it a lot. But now on the subject on thongs don’t be tto haty girl. I’ve got to tell you that originally I hated them. The first one I had caused an abrasion – yes, it rubbed me big time and I tossed it out. Following that my girlfriend gave me a very well made expensive one that was ultra comfortable. Now I purchase and wear only that brand. called “elita”. 😉

    sulz: self did not throw the only thong own in the garbage, but then again have the wits to “test drive” it at home first. oh well, there’s also boy-leg underpants and those so-called hi-tech panties with the seamless look.

  3. timethief said:

    The above mispelled “tto haty” actually was meant to be “too hasty” which was exactly what I was when I hit the submit comment button. Speaking of butts now doesn’t just crack you right up? 😀

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