Spotted at the Deli Counter

This story bears no literary significance (like most other items on this blog) but it must be shared.

Recently Cory and I were waiting at the deli counter when we simultaneously spied a gentleman ahead of us. Allow me to elaborate.

1. Pony tail: I could probably leave it at that but I must mention that this scraggly pony was fastened with a thick, black scrunchy. Not allowed on anyone post 1992, most certainly not allowed on men post '92.
2. Fanny pack:* That is offensive enough, except the fanny pack was loosened so it sat just below the nut sack. The nut sack that was barely covered by an unzipped fly.
3. Black, acid wash jeans. See point #1.

Oh, the horror.

* I know fanny packs are lame. And there's certainly no excuse for them at the supermarket. Or on a man. However, I do think there is a place for them. I myself would never wear one for fear of being ostracized. In fact, by merely typing the above statements I am inviting the wrath of you 'judgers.' But I do really wish they were socially acceptable. How annoying it is to reach into the far recesses of your purse or diaper bag and not be able to find your wallet or cell phone. I know there are pockets in bags for these items but my shit never ends up in them. It ends up buried deep below diapers, daily planners, tissues, chapstick, random books, toys, etc. And there's nothing worse than desperately trying to find your wallet or cell phone in your bag with a line of impatient people behind you and a child doing everything she can to propel herself out of a shopping cart. How easy would it be to just reach down to your fanny** and grab what you need. Convenient, yes.

** Fanny. What a word. Don't get caught calling your tush a fanny in England. I knew a girl in kindergarten named Fanny. Sick.

Whatever, take back every you said about fanny packs. If Ian Ziering rocked one, then it's cool. So what if this photo was taken in 1992...