Tour de Pants

TH is obsessed with the Tour de France. He has been glued to the TV since the race began on July 4. Every night from 8 pm til 11 pm (that's when the highlights play) he is immersed in the great battle between Lance Armstong and Roberto Contador. Apparently tomorrow is the big day. There is some crazy mountain stage that's never been done before. So, my Saturday evening is shot. If anyone is going to be on the Cape and wants to meet for a drink, I'm buying. That's how desperate I am for someone to go out with and save me from watching yet another night of bike racing.

I must confess, the scenery is amazing. Who ever produces this entire thing is a genius. If I'm not bored out of my mind, I'm sitting there slack jawed and drooling over the castles, cafes and gorgeous mountain ranges. If I had the funds available, I would have booked a trip to Europe already.

Last night started out the same as any night. I'm trying not to be bored to tears, reading a book and Big K was mesmerized by the whole deal. Yesterday was the time trial day. Each guy was racing against the clock. (YAWN!!!!) Every time a guy is getting ready to start his trial, they get a close up shot of him. They're all wearing skin tight biking suits so naturally, my first glance is at their crotch. It only took me 3-4 guys to realized that all these men had enormous bulges in their pants. I knew that racing did not require a jock strap or cup. So, the only thing I could think of is that either these guys were REALLY excited about racing or they were very generously hung.

"Did you see the sized of that guys bulge" I said to TH. "He has an enormous penis"

TH looked at me with practiced patience. "You are obsessed with huge cock" he said.

"No really, it's HUGE!" I said. "And no, I am not obsessed"

"It's a gel pack, you idiot." he said. "These guys are riding for 5 hours at a time and need something to cushion themselves against the seat. They put a gel pack in their pants."

"Well, they should tell you that" I said.

They should tell you that. I'm not stating that enormous penises are the way to go. It really isn't the size that counts. It is the motion of the ocean. Except if you do get someone who has an exceptional package. Then it is Christmas and your birthday all rolled into one. Exceptional does not mean large. It's just what it is. Exceptional. Every ones definition is different. I happen to be very lucky and found a man with a fabulous package. It's perfect for me.

There is such a thing as too big. (been there, done that) If the guy doesn't know how to handle his gigantic package properly, you're left saying "Well, what the hell do you want me to do with that? If you don't know what to do with it, you're sure as hell not getting it near me." It is a blessing and a curse.

So, I have dubbed the Tour de France - The Tour de Pants. And in my race, there isn't a gel pack in sight.