A is for Ass-Crack…

A is for Ass-crack, which is something that I spent FAR too much time staring at today. Shortly after I regaled you fine folks with a song from one of my favourite Canadian artists, the furnace repair type guy showed up to try and figure out why our pilot light keeps spontaneously going out. Now, he wasn’t an obese man – perhaps a few pounds overweight, but not so much – and yet, his ass seemed to be three sizes too big for his pants while his waste appeared to be three sizes too small for his belt.

I can’t really say why my eyes kept drifting to his budging buns, but I’ve noticed in the past that such things are almost impossible to avoid. It’s like driving past a car wreck; you don’t want to look, and yet you can’t seem to help yourself. I’ve noticed this same phenomena at the beach when no one can stop looking at the fat hairy guy’s crotch as his purple helmeted pal fights to escape his too-tight banana hammock, and I’ve noticed it at on nights out at the bar when perfectly young, good looking guys can’t help themselves from staring into the all-too-obvious cottage-cheese cleavage of a terrifying cougar on the prowl. There might not be a logical reason for us to look at such horrible things, and yet we do it anyway.

That’s how it was for me today. My mind kept screaming, “LOOK AWAY, LOOK AWAY!!!” but my eyeballs refused to listen. As he rambled on in his repair-man talk, I stood behind him pretending to listen while my gaze was trapped in the purgatorial crevice between his ass cheeks. While locked in this stare down a couple of things occurred to me; 1) huh, ass crack starts with A, how ironic since I just started on an alphabet themed thing on my blog, and 2) I wonder if anyone’s ever thought about designing pants just for repairmen, since it seems that regular pants never fit them quite right. One could – quite possibly – become rich beyond their wildest dreams if they could create a pair of pants that actually stayed up on a repairman’s hips. This though made me wish I could sew. Sadly, I can’t.

As I watched him go down my front walk towards his van, I found myself wondering if prominent ass cracks are a requirement when applying for positions specializing in home maintenance. I wondered this – you see – because I can not recall a single repairman ever coming into my home who’s crack I didn’t catch at least a glimpse of. I found this far more amusing than any sane person likely would, and I got a decent chuckle out of it.  

The good news is that butt-crack-Bob (seriously, his name was Bob) changed out some little thingamajig on my furnace and left me with the promise that the problem was now a thing of the past.