And now for the guys....

Okay, I've been writing too much about girls, time for the guys to get what's coming to them!

I was at Tropical Island over the weekend (without my computer, would you believe, but with some older c'ts and Atlantic Monthly mags). This is a large hall, built for a company planning on building zeppelins before going bankrupt, that was bought for a song by a Malaysian investor and transformed into a South Sea/Brazilian/Thai/WARM paradise. The air is 28 degrees, the water 28-32, and you can stay there 24 hours or longer if you want, hanging out in a bathing suit.

Bored without my computer and the Internet I thought I would do some guy-watching, seeing as how there were lots and lots of guys in various stages of undress walking around.

Let me sum it up like this: I think I know why the Germans are dying out.

There was lots of starch+sugar converted to fat on display, and not just the beer bellies and distended navels. There were guys with breasts some women would give their eye teeth for, and some with massive thighs. Guys with all sorts of tattoos: fancy ones, brutal ones, infected ones (yuck, I was sharing water with that one??). Guys with their heads shaved and guys who had not seen a barber in many a year. Guys wearing big, baggy shorts riding so low I wanted to hand out suspenders.

The occasional good-looking guy tended to be sporting a big, clunky, gold chain. Or smoking up a storm. Or both. Oh, the one dancer from Brazil was cute - he was wearing Brazilian flag underwear, which could be ascertained because his pants were riding very low, below the apex of his back end, held up only by, well, some forward anatomy. It was amazing to watch him move, I fully expected to see the pants fall at any minute (they didn't, maybe he used glue).

Ah well. Maybe they need to add a weight-lifting room. And try and police the very polite signs suggesting that everyone put on some shoes and clothes before heading to the food court.

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