I was enjoying a peaceful (pardon the expression) cat nap, when my Mom Cathy woke me up. She was swearing at an article in the New York Times. You can read it here.
Apparently some people are up in arms over baggy jeans that sag down and show the guy’s boxer shorts. Virginia and Louisiana have considered making this fashion a crime.
“Don’t these people have enough to do?” my mom wondered. “Can’t they find another way to use our tax money?”
I agree. With all the dogs out there who need walks and more…but I digress. Those folks should come here if they want to see something really gross.
Yesterday my mom said, “Enough running around, Gracie! You’re scheduled for 2 trips to the park this weekend. Let’s just walk over to Seattle Center.”
So we did. Boh-ring. The place was filled with trucks unloading for Bumpershoot, a fall festival my mom avoids. (“Pay to get into a place to buy the usual festival fare? I’d rather go see a ballet,” she says. Of course I don’t get to go to the ballet, but that’s another story.)
So we turned to go home when my ears were flattened by whistles, yells, and (pardon the expression) cat-calls. A herd of bicycle riders were headed our way, right in the middle of traffic. Mom put me into a “sit” so I wouldn’t run after them. They were yelling and waving.
Saggy jeans? One guy was riding his bike wearing no jeans…and nothing else either. Stark naked riding a bike? Yuk. I poke around in unmentionable piles at the dog park and even I had to avert my eyes.
“It’s a monthly protest on the last Friday of the month,” a young guy explained to my mom, as he parked his bike nearby. “They’re protesting the way cars create traffic.”
“We don’t even have a car,” my mom said virtuously. “But why ride…um…nude?”
“This is Seattle!” the young man said, waving his hands to encompass the city around us.
So get over it, baggy jeans people. At least they keep their shorts on.