Utterly random post up ahead. You’ve been warned.
This morning, I decided to choose a podcast I had subscribed to in 2015 [really], but of which I hadn’t heard a single episode. Just to put things into perspective, I’m subscribed to about 80 podcasts in total. Several of them, I can’t bring myself to delete a single episode without listening to it. Here are some of them. The list has since expanded. So it should come as no surprise that I have 1200+ unlistened-to episodes.
The easiest way for me to tackle this load is to listen to them when on my morning walk. Yes, music is more traditional but it is truly hard to beat The Now Show on BBC Radio 4, on an otherwise booooooooring walk. The belly laughs are like ab exercises in themselves. 😛 And yes, I’ve managed to knock off several by doing this.
Today, I decided to crank up.. *drumroll* My Dad Wrote a Porno. I am not making this up. It is an absolutely bonkers bit of talk radio which is unexpectedly funny. The first episode was the first chapter with copious amounts of commentary, disgusted, wondering, surprised, witty, and hilarious by three people.
If the podcast itself wasn’t hilarious enough, the whole premise was so bizarre, I found myself laughing even more because of it. [Matunga East had very surprised crows this morning.] The text of the erotic novel is so cringe-worthy that it surprises a laugh out of you every so often.
After I had finished the episode, I was debating whether or not to stay subscribed to this podcast. It was funny, granted, but I still found the text a little too cringey for my taste. Thongs, nakedness, and “labial pinkness” made appearances in the FIRST chapter. Doesn’t bode well.
Anyway. I didn’t reach a conclusion on that point, and I guess I will give the second episode a go before deciding.
But. The whole erotica aspect reminded me of an incident with visible underwear lines. [Don’t ask me why. My mind is a mystery to me too, at the best of times.]
This was way back in 1999, and I was in Scunthorpe in sixth form college. A friend from college, also an international student, and I were walking into town. We happened to be walking a few feet behind a lady. This lady was dressed in a well-fitting grey pencil skirt. Office garb, by the looks of it. I cannot remember anything else about her, and you’ll realise in a moment why I remember the skirt.
We were walking on the pavement, and all of a sudden I hear my friend gasp in shock. I looked at her in some surprise, obviously, and she whispered to me the following words: “That lady! She’s not wearing a panty!”
Of course I stopped dead in my tracks in shock, questions coursing through my mind. WHAT? Which lady? Are you sure you meant ‘panty’? Do you know what that means? HOW do you know? Do you know her? Why would she tell you that she doesn’t wear underwear?!
Turns out she was referring to the lady in front of us, and her reasoning was that a skirt that well-fitted should show panty lines. And if it didn’t? No panty.
I was 16 at the time, and raised in UAE. She was 18, a Sudanese-origin Arab, born and raised in Oman.
We had no idea that thongs were a thing. Or commando, for that matter. *giggle*