Monday, January 10, 2005

Guess what I'm not wearing today:

1) Pants
2) My grandmother's lacy underthings
3) John Ashcroft's sweaty wifebeater that I got on eBay for $17 (a steal!)
4) My freakin' lipo girdle

If you guessed 1 or 2, you're weird. But in a killing hookers in the basement fun kind of way. If you guessed 3, please never read my blog again.

If you guessed 4, you are hereby invited to celebrate a lifetime of ungirdled freedom with me. Woo-hoo!

I just got back from my 11-day checkup—the one where the doctor is supposed to tell me I'm healing nicely but I need to keep squeezing my kidneys down into my rectum wearing the girdle for another week. But instead, he said I'm healing nicely and I am hereby allowed to celebrate life with my tits to the wind (that's just an expression, for the record—I don't actually have tits and if I did I wouldn't let them flap in the wind because it might hurt innocent passers-by attract amorous lesbians and they can be harder to get rid of than fundamentalists and once you have an infestation of either there goes the neighborhood because suddenly it's all flannel and Dockers everywhere you look and you start to feel out of place in your discount couture and god knows nobody wants that) and he doesn't want to see my bruisy, swollen ass again for two months.

So I marched triumphantly—albeit slightly unsteadily since my core muscles had forgotten how to hold me up during the evil Girdle Regime of 2005—out the door and into the street. And I came straight home to blog about it since I have no actual human friends who want to hang out with me to park myself in front of a TiVo hard drive packed with CSI reruns since I have no actual human friends who want to hang out with me.

I also have full permission to head back to the gym but I've decided I like being lazy and I'm going to lounge around and see if I can regrow all that fat which I plan to do tomorrow over lunch. Though I don't think I want to change my shirt in the locker room just yet; my bare midsection is still a little disconcerting to behold—even for the pervy homos who think nobody can tell they're gay straight guys.

In the mean time I'm left to contemplate just how freakin' hairy my tummy gets when I don't shave it. (I've been shaving everything but a saucy little trail that leads south from my belly button for at least 10 years, and I'd forgotten what a teddy bear I'm capable of being. But I didn't shave for a couple weeks before the surgery to pre-empt any itching issues. And I'm not shaving any time in the near future because now my tummy's kind of like that science experiment you did in third grade where you rubbed a piece of Wonder bread on the dusty blinds ostensibly to make mold grow but more likely because the janitor was too lazy to clean the blinds himself because he was busy killing hookers in the basement and I'm curious to see how hairy it actually gets.)

Anyway, we can all breathe a sigh of relief that Jake's gonna finally stop bitching about his freakin' girdle Jake's gonna finally stop bitching about his freakin' girdle. Although, given the shaky state of his core muscles at the moment, your sigh will most likely be louder than his.


Will said...

Hmmmm--Jake with fur. Intriguing.

shadowfoot said...

Furry photo please (even if it's a before and after shaving, to show us the lipo results)

Your Friend, Matthew said...

Okay, you have me feeling guilty. For the record, Jake has many friends and most of them are human.
I am sorry I could not get together with you last night to celebrate your girdle free belly. I will give you a rain check and for everyone else, assuming Jake will allow me, you will get a picture of that furry yummy fat free tummy.

Jeff said...

So, if I read this correctly, are you saying that you *are* wearing your grandmother's lacy underthings? You might want to rethink that look.

But congratulations on the girdle extraction.

palochi said...

I think you're seriously underestimating the sexual power you'd have as a musclebear, Jake. Let's get together and talk about it sometime. We'll have coffee, kill a few hookers in the basement... it'll be fun. Bring your grandmother's girdle.

Megan said...

I wonder if you can make it through a post without striking something out. :) I mean, I love it because it's hilarious, but I wonder....

Erik said...

Jeff is right: You are wearing an odd combo.

I even drew a Venn diagram to settle the question.

view the proof

Dantallion said...

K, I want to see pictures of the tummy/wonderbread experiment.

(Of course, I also guessed the wife beater thingy above as well.)

Christopher said...

When you write "pants" do you mean "trousers" or "tighty-whities"? In Britain "pants" are "tighty-whities" (or "tighty-beigies" if you come from somewhere north of Manchester).

I think witty strikethrough's should now be known globally as "Jake-ism's".

buff said...

Jake: Congratulations on successful liposuction surgery.
I'm sure you'll be able to recreate your furry treasure trail soon with your new sleek abs as background. WOOOF.

Your blog is terrific. Thanks for keeping us posted.

You've taken positive action and now you are about to become a really hunky musclebear. Just watch that line up of hunks in front of your cave. WOOOF.
Big hairy muscle hugs of encouragement. Take care.