Girl Pants
Unless one is an actual cowboy, one simply does not wear fitted jeans on the rez. I learned this lesson fast and hard. Mostly it came in the form of comments such as these, and usually from small children:
“Mr. Hays…wearing girl pants, enit?”
“Mr. Hays’ girlfriends all slapped him up and stole his lady pants.”
You get the point.
Such comments notwithstanding, I have continued to wear my lady pants, if occasionally with some reservations. Today, however, I may have learned a profound lesson: sometimes persistence in the face of ridicule (even from small children) pays off.
I pass on to you a dialogue reported to have occurred between a very precocious first grade student and another teacher at our school:
Teacher: Are you falling in love with Mr. Hays?
Student: I think so.
T: What do you love about him?
S: …I think I love his girl pants.
T: What if he didn’t wear girl pants anymore? What would you love about him then?
S: (befuddled silence).
I rest my case. The girl pants stay.
Wow.
In the “possibly related posts” link below this entry, there is a listing entitled “Spice Girls Tour – I Kinda Can’t Wait”.
Does this blog ever update?
Of all the worthless corners of the internet (and I know the blogger has investigated them) this fine piece of mundane inactivity might be the most tube-clogging waste of time, space, and the energy I take twice a day to click on the hyperlink and see if anything new has been added. “Mandrew Hays,” if that is his real name, should consider getting a more exciting life if he insists on not maintaining a blog where he doesn’t write about it.
But that’s just MHO.
Justin
I originally just typed my name as “Jim.” Which is in fact my fater’s name. I might need to go and sleep now. And then kill myself.
Justin
This blog purports to ask and answer the question “How Did This Happen?”
But apparently not much happens, at least little that makes the blogger ask, How? Which is interesting, because facing the world’s many impoderables and dubieties I find myself asking, How? all the time. For example,
How did I become friends with someone who writes such a boring blog? How does Andrew, rumored to be a Thor-like Nordian, fit into such girly pants? How does Andrew preserve his Nordic heritage while aiding and abetting the vikings’ classic enemy, the Indians (in my mind, “South Dakota” and “Greenland” are basically the same place)? How has Andrew syncretized the dirt, Freyja, and YHWH into an image of such a placable, uncaring, silent, immutable, cold, cruel god? How come Andrew feels called upon to imitate this god in his day to day relations (or month to every other month relations) with his friends? How come he (the Redman) asks you, How? How come this blog is so very boring?
I suspect the answer to this last question–and the reason Andrew seems so reluctant to engage with the recalcitrant and hard hitting Hows of life in this space–is because he wants this blog to be safe and sound for his mother to read. But not even Andrew’s mother would read this blog, it is so boring.
Justin