On June 14th, the year of our lord 2003, something happened that will forever be branded into my mind. It pains me to even think about what I saw, but alas, it must shared, for it is pointless and mundane.
On the date listed above, my older brother graduated from the local college. The graduation was not that entertaining, but I stayed awake. While my eyes were wandering, I saw a middle-aged man sitting in front of me, a little to the left, his attention was on the speaker. My eyes lowered slightly to find, much to my horror, that his jeans were slacking and his shirt was up. I could see his butt crack. When I awoke that morning, I did not say to myself, “Man, I sure hope is see a middle-aged man’s butt crack. If only I could witness such a sight, my world would be complete.” I did not say that.
As seconds elapsed into minutes, it seemed as if the pants were getting lower. You are probaly asking, “Why are you still looking at said crack?” (Okay, you’re not asking that, but humour me.) I was drawn to the crack. It was as if I was no longer in control of my own eyes. It was so grotesque (sp?) that I could not turn away. I could not stop looking at it. My eyes began to hurt and water.
Millions of thoughts began racing through my head. “Is anyone else in the audience looking at this?”, “I hope my butt doesn’t get that hairy when I’m older.” And the final one, which I am leaving to my fellow Dopers: Does he not feel a draft? Seriously though, how could he not feel the cold air? With his pants halfway down his butt, you’d think he’d get a bit nippy.
Thank you.