Most certainly not.
Weird Al should rewrite his parody.
Ba-da bamp-bamp-bamp, Ba-ba-ba-ba bamp…
Steve walks warily down the street,
his johnson hanging low.
Aint no choice but to move that thing
before it starts to sting…
:: yawn ::
(Scratch scratch)
:: cough ::
Well, at least he didn’t do “the kick”. That’s where the guy lifts his leg slightly to one side and gives a couple of little kicks so that all the gear shifts back into place. It’s usually accompanied by a fart or two if need be.
He might have Jock Itch, for which creams, sprays & powders can help.
Leave him an anonymous note, recommending he speak to the Pharmacist about which OTC can help him.
My great-grandfather (on my mom’s side) invented “The Kick” in 1907, and patented it. The royalties from its use helped my family through the
Great Depression.
Okay, gotcha… my SO used to do something similar when he wanted to feel naughty all day–he’d ask me to put a nice bright red lipstick kiss on the end of his pecker, said it gave him a half to 3/4 stiffie all day long but made it kinda tough to pee since the sight would get him all riled up. Guess he used a stall on those days!
Me, I like going commando in a skirt–nothing Britney, mind you, just my own little private breezeway…
Guys, if your stuff sits so uncomfortably in your britches, how did trousers become standard dress for men? How come you’re not all wearing kilts or togas?
Or how did boxers become so popular?
Well, I can tell you when I started wearing boxers. It was the summer between elementary and middle school and I was in soccer camp as usual. We always scrimmaged at the end of the day and we would go shirts versus skins. The style of the skins team was to show the top band of the boxers (not a lot because this is soccer not basketball and the shorts are actually more comfortable at mid thigh). I started wearing boxer shorts during this summer. The only time I considered going back to tighty whities was during 9th grade track when I was learning the high hurdles. You don’t want anything unrestricted when you are trying to run full speed over a rigid fiberglass bar. Still, guys always talk about how tighty whities make you sterile so I decided that for track, restriction was good but for everyday life I am all about the boxers or the ideal boxer briefs. They provide the space of boxers with the comforting restriction of briefs. Besides, most girls I have encountered like boxers and love boxer briefs.
It’s still early. Give him time. The guy is new there. Coworker might just be warming up to do that later.
My coworkers all strongly requested that I not wear a kilt. Of course that was back when I was running cable on and under raised floors - lot of bending over, you see…
Well, at least you would have been…open…instead of going the sneaky “plumber’s butt” route.
(Yes, there was also a guy in one of my classes who had severe “plumber’s butt.” I suspect he was aware of it, and thought it made him look cool.)
You also have to remeber that things are moving around in there based on temperature and mood. And sometimes a pube gets trapped in some skin or clothes, and then the skin the other end of the hair is attached to starts to move and pull it. It’s enough discomfort to require immediate attention.
Uh-uh, no separator, as I’m not sure that I could pull *that * off all day long. Now that I think about it, though, it does seem kind of tempting, and I *haven’t * bought myself a Channukah gift yet…
In my current job, I’m usually the only guy among a bunch of women, so I don’t tend to have pervy thoughts at work these days. I actually kinda miss having pervy thoughts on company time. 
I’m fine, thank you very much. How *you * doin’, uhhh, Daddy? 
And what, no linky to the obligatory pic? 
Y’know what? I actually think that there’s something sweet about that!
Kudos for going commando, 'cause I couldn’t do that if I were venturing more than five feet from my apartment. I’d just be overwhelmed by an irrational fear that my pants would become ripped in some critical area while I was out in public, and I don’t want to find myself having any “I swear, officer, I *wasn’t * exposing myself” conversations. (Says the guy who’s regularly exposed himself to close–and not so close–friends (upon request, of course), and who wouldn’t necessarily object to doing the same at the request of reciprocal-minded strangers. Good thing that Mama’s not a Doper, huh?)
And stalls at work? Mmm-mmm, good!
“The Kick”? Squat and bump and grind??
I guess I should be feeling grateful.