July 29, 2005

• BWAhahaah - yeah RIGHT! Still, I guess you gotta say something.
• Wait. Could he have just showed his girlfriend his actual penis?
• Yes, but was it in its fully upright and locked position?
• Still, I guess you gotta say something. You say that as if you know what the real answer should have been!
• nutball.
• And i do! Anything else.
• The law makes any of the following crimes illegal when they're committed in an aircraft: murder, attempted murder, manslaughter, attempted manslaughter, assault, maiming, theft, receiving stolen property, sexual abuse and indecent exposure They're legal otherwise? I'm missing out.
• I am in shock. TWO empty seats beside him?
• "If she thinks I did something like that, I'm very sorry," said Gibeau, who's a pipe liner at LaBarge Cos. in Syracuse. Now if he had said "Want me to line your pipes?" then perhaps he would be able to better defend himself...
• empty seats beside him? I'll let you monkeys in on a little secret, since I like you guys most of you guys. If you're flying with two people total, request the window seat and the aisle seat (if they're 3 wide). Since middle seats are the last to go, you better your chances of getting next to an empty seat! I rarely fly, and this has worked for me on more then one occasion...
• I'm partial to bulkhead seats, at least the ones at the front of the plane, with no bathrooms near or a screen in the wall. More legroom (I'm not long-legged, but like to shift and cross my legs during the flight) and the built-in meal tray means no jackass spills my coffee by reclining his seat. Once, in a semi-empty connection flight, had the chance to lay all over a row of three seats. Too bad the flight was so short.
• less time to expose yourself? *ducks, runs*
• But... but... I swear I checked my zipper!
• Oh, I forgot to mention, but I think it's obvious. If the middle seat is taken, it's not hard to convince them to swap for an aisle or window...
• Great suggestions. I guess I can retire the garlic and limburger body spray I use pre-flight.
• Cynnbad, you obviously have never flown to Syracuse's Hancock International Airport. At times, you can have the whole freakin' plane to yourself. The factories that I was business analyst for were in the surrounding North Country as they euphemistically put it in the article--Lowville, Croghan, Beaver Falls, and Fulton. Perhaps this was the "gentleman"'s only contact with a female in years, given that he lives in Carthage. The best looking woman in Croghan/Boonville was also the Stihl Chainsaw Lumberjill of the year more than once.
• Next they'll prosecute women for having their cleveage exposed, since this is the exact same crime.
• What?! Not at all the same. The guy was flashing. Showing his genitals. Women with their boobs flopping out are a totally different thing. Not talking reproductive organs here. He was trying to get a rise, as it were.
• I've never understood why people get so worked up over sighting someone's genitals. We've all got them. Ooh! Ooh! That man has a penis! Well no shit, sherlock. Besides, the proper response to a flasher is to point and laugh -- in a condescending tone, preferably.
• She stole a glimpse down his shorts. That's exactly the same as when a guy can look down someone's shirt. Actually there is a difference. When you see down a women's shirt, she is trying to get a rise. That's different than an oblivious freeballer that has no idea someone's peeping his package. True story: A pal of mine was getting rid of a bunch of his clothes to goodwill, but first he had me go through the pile and pick out what I wanted. (We do this all the time around here). Well this time one of the things I picked out was a really good looking pair of pants, along with some other shirts. That same night I went out to the movies wearing those pants. I sat in the row behind walkway, where I could stretch out comfortably by putting my feet up on the bar, and slouching down (these are the prime seat that we usually try to get). Turns out that pair of pants was getting thrown away, and wasn't supposed to be in the goodwill pile. The reason it was trash was that there was a HUGE FUCKING HOLE in the crotch. You couldn't really while I was standing up, but while I'm sitting in that movie-watching/pap-smear posture the hole couldn't be more strategically placed. If my popcorn wasn't in my lap, I might have seen it. I guess this is the point where I mention that I happened to be freeballing that night. So I sit through the whole movie, showing my junk off to everyone that walks in front of me. I did notice that people were being kinda weird, but I didn't figure out why. Maybe there was something behind me that kept making people laugh, or sometimes scoff. There were two girls in particular that kept on passing in front of me and whispering. I was so sure they were into me. I was all like "yeah, check me out". Not everyone walking by caught a glimpse, they had to turn there head at the right time or one my legs would block their view. I figure there was about a 30-45 degree arc that had full view, and every direction outside that arc had no view at all. On the way home I figured it out. I drive holding my soda pop in my crotch, and man it was cold, alot more than normal. I kept shifting it, and even thought to myself "man, it's like I'm frickin' naked or something". I eventually put my hand down there and found my junk sitting out on the car seat. Everything was out, the whole kit and kaboodle. The couch and both endtables were sitting out in the front yard like they belonged there. I about wrecked my car right then. So, now I'm more careful about the clothes I get from friends, and I make an effort to wear underwear more often. The other lesson I learned is that it takes a whole damn lot to realize your stuff is out and about. I was freezing my whatzit for 10 minutes before I figured it out, and was after an hour and a half of it get fresh air in the theatre.
• Hence the switch to knickerbockers then, Mr.?
• Yeah, I don't know if my handle is apropo or ironic.
• I am in shock. TWO empty seats beside him? One for each jewel.
• It's all a misunderstanding. He was flying Southwest and was confused by the stewardess's question as she passed out the complimentary snacks.
• Mr. knickerbocker: you are a vicarious perv. Myself and my daughter have been exposed to this cute little "accident" on several occasions. It was clearly not an "I'm relaxed" kind of thing. I make an effort to conceal my bits. Why the hell shouldn't you?
• OK, granted, you evidently corrected the problem, but too much info, perhaps
• OK, on double preview, you're Mr. SickoKnicko. That is all.
• You are the biggest freakin' wierdo on the planet. Keep you dinkie in you darn pants! And flopping your dinkie out is very different from a woman wearing a low cut top! So there! PERV!
• Sorry, the last comment was written by a child. We'll go away now, sorry.
• O I've got bits that dingle dangle dingle as I fly airily along and they sing, 'O ain't you glad you're single' and I think they ain't so very far from wrong Oh, Mary Ann, oh, Mary Ann though you done some awful squawking this is why I up and ran...
• Alright now, gents, enough of this foolishness. If the ladies want to see Commander McBooty and the Piecemakers, they'll ask. Until that point, those of you who are not perverts should, during the summer freeball months, perhaps peform a brief wind-check before leaving the house.
• I'll never understand men and their obsession with their equipment. Which is why I'm always fascinated with situations like these.
• Whoa. I seem to have left an unintentional void.
• I'll never understand women and their fascination with overly "broad" generalisations.
• I'll never understand why you people don't jump all over these taglines. MonkeyFilter: I make an effort to conceal my bits. Why the hell shouldn't you? MonkeyFilter: You are the biggest freakin' wierdo on the planet. MonkeyFilter: Whoa. I seem to have left an unintentional void. MonkeyFilter: The proper response ... is to point and laugh.
• It's time for us to make up and sing a song together. How about that old Chuck Berry favorite, My Ding-a-Ling?