Notes from a Walkman Junkie: A Tale Of Two Towel Shorts
A Tale of Two Towel Shorts
So, it’s October, which is practically November, which is almost December… Fuck it, it’s basically x-mas and with x-mas comes x-mas music. Charlie Brown’s x-mas soundtrack is a personal favorite of mine and always conjures up childhood memories of family, friends and ineluctably, palpable sadness. I am also reminded of past received and given presents.
My first recollection of gift giving was essentially my siblings and I going around, grabbing items from around the house, wrapping them in a hapless manner, and giving them back to my parents as presents. This activity was not unlike the ‘burglar game’ in which we donned all black and toted around pillow cases in order to carry all of the collected loot that we nipped from our house. The main difference of course being that we did not wrap these items prior to returning them to my parents. Tragically, the burglar game lost some of it’s luster for me when I accidentally stepped on my pillowcase full of booty and flopped down the stairs landing flat on my back, which scattered my pillage everywhere and knocked the wind out of me; thus tersely ending my once promising (albeit non-lucrative) criminal career.
The seasonal ‘shopping sprees’, nevertheless, endured and it became apparent that my sister and I had quite similar taste (still do, see: boys). We would often migrate towards the same objects — already owned by my parents — to steal, wrap up, and give back to them; “Merry x-mas! You’re welcome.” Though the stealing portion of our gift bearing has waned over the years, my sister and I are still inherently drawn to the same gift choices from time to time. There has been no coincidental purchase, however, that can ever compare to the uncanny phenomenon of the towel shorts.
My siblings and I were going to visit my father for x-mas one year and had all brought our separately and painstakingly acquired offerings. The quest to appease my father with presents is a bit of a daunting task. He is not an easy man to buy for mainly because anything that he may want — movies, books, little hats, firearms, etc. — he just goes and gets for himself. In addition to that, he is never particularly thrilled about the holiday season in general. His last x-mas card to me read, “It’s the holiday season” to which my father penned underneath a blunt, “Deal with it.”
I have discovered over the years that the best way to shop for my father is to find something that he would never get for himself, but that I know he unwittingly desperately wants and needs. It was with this notion in mind that I happened upon the perfect present: towel shorts. And these were not just your average towel shorts, but the deluxe version with a thick elastic waist and deep pockets for your convenience. I quickly snatched these beauties up and was counting the hours until I could bestow them upon my father. The moment had finally arrived: my siblings and I were gathered around anxiously watching as he opened our gifts one by one. I positioned mine to go last because I was well aware of It’s mind-shattering magnificence. My father opened my brother’s gift (something sharp and lethal) and then moved on to open my sister’s.
He dug through the paper, opened the box and lifted the mysterious contents. It was at this point that everything seemed to happen in slow motion as I saw an identical pair of towel shorts to mine in his mitts…(OK, they were a different color, but for fucks’ sake). I felt my heart sink as he guffawed in awe of this spectacularly clever and infinitely serviceable gift. Now of course, the brilliance of my present was ruined… “Oh gee great, ANOTHER pair of towel shorts.” But, one must appreciate the prodigiously bizarre occurrence of two sisters in two different cities buying the exact same pair of towel shorts. It’s like when twins feel each other’s pain, but the pain is towel shorts.
I leave you with a diddy from PSAPP and perhaps this year I shall get my father a more practical gift… like a velvet pony.