Man vs. Moth Part 3: Midnight Assassin

The war between man and moth continues on daily, like the battles between small countries. It is a constant fight for supremacy and there can be only one winner. Normally these wars are fought valiantly on the battlefield with honour from both competitors. Furthermore, both man and moth follow the known rules of engagement laid down by the nations of the world. The political ramifications alone due to straying from the rules of engagement could cause worldwide turmoil and economic recession like never seen before. It is imperative that these battles do not stray from the rules or they'll turn barbaric. It would be like the battles seen in old Europe, a field full of dead warriors and no survivors on either side. It would be a
shame to see such carnage.

Throughout history and the many wars that have been fought, there have been extreme measures to help one side win, or to prevent further casualties. The attack on Pearl Harbour and Hiroshima come to mind as good examples of this. Sometimes these extreme measures work, and sometimes they don't. They definitely do not follow the rules of engagement, but on occasion they are a needed tactic. So now we come again to the war between man and moth, and once again a new installment of my epic saga. This time the rules changed... This... Is my story...

It was dark, not only by the blackness of night, but because the clouds were thick with rain. The air was hot, 34c and very humid outside. Much to my chagrin, it was not much better inside our barracks. It made for an uncomfortable evening. This however was war, and war is not to be comfortable. The thought crosses my mind that this is what it must have been like in Nam, only multitudes worse. After all, the jungle is a much more dangerous place than a living barracks. I chuckled at the fact that the barracks had a measly cooling device for the relaxing chamber and how poorly it worked. Even sadder is that my sleep chamber is much hotter than the rest of the barracks and I was suddenly curious as how well I'd sleep this night.

I walked over and stood in the doorway hoping that the torrential downpour would send cool ripples of air over my pale body. All I had on were a pair of gotch and my shorts, and nothing else but a grin. My roommates call me the "shirtless wonder". It’s a good name really. Show's that I'm not afraid to show off my magnificent man body. I'm proud of the keg belly I've developed over the years. Not too many men are proud like I am to show off their bodies. "Its a good thing to be a man" I think to myself... Realizing that there is no cool air to be had outside I turn back and lay down on the love seat. "If it’s hotter than hell in here, I might as well be laying down on something,” I think to myself.

The pitter-patter of the rain on the roof is almost intoxicating. So much so that I close my eyes in the hopes of a rendezvous with the elusive sandman. Its funny, the sandman is. I don't know why they call him a man, for he is not a he at all. It’s an it. Completely non-gendered it still has an appeal that one cannot resist. Needless to say, the sandman beaconed me to join in on the nighttime adventures, and I gladly obliged. As I was nearing the inevitable meeting the telecommunications device loudly cried to be answered. Startled at first not knowing what was going on I darted up. Upon realizing it’s just the telecommunications device crying, I make haste to answer its call to me. "Hello?" I ask. "Hi, its me!" happily retorts the damsel from the previous story. We chit chat about the weeks goings on, nothing too intense. I mean how deep of a conversation can one have when its nearing midnight? We happily exchange vocularities for a while when I realize that I'm really thirsty. Armed with nothing more than the telecommunications device I make way to the food-dispensing chamber in the hopes of finding something to quench my intense thirst. Little did I know my next actions could prove fatal... I move into the food-dispensing chamber with haste not taking into consideration that there, in the middle of that very chamber, was a large light fixture. One takes for grated such luxuries as light, and little thought was put into my going in for a drink. I should have known what was about to happen next...

I open the food-cooling unit and then suddenly I hear a low-pitched hum. "Dear lord" I think to myself. "We have a situation,” I whispered to the damsel through the telecommunications device. She replies with a cool "what?" "There's one here, I can hear it..." "What’s there?" she coos softly as if she was there with me. "There’s a moth here." I say. I calmly look up and all around, yet I still cannot see it. "Hmmm.... Bastards sent an assassin and he's a damned good one too,” I say softly as to not cause the damsel undo stress. After all, I am a man, a trained warrior, who built the Eiffel tower with brawn, and her a simple damsel who should never concern her self with the matters of war. That damned hum won't go away. I know he's near, but I have failed to accomplish a visual. Just then the hum gets extremely close and hits me in the right shoulder. "I'm hit!!" I cry and drop the telecommunications device. I spin around to see where the smug little bastard went, but again I no visual confirmation of this moth assassin. All of a sudden the hum gets close again and again am dive bombed, this time in the chest. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah" I cry as I'm hit once more. I saw the little bastard only for a split second then lost him again. "Damnit" I yell in complete frustration. I spin around not knowing what’s going on, and why I cannot confirm his presence visually. I'm starting to loose my warrior like composure and this new emotion called fear is starting to take hold. I'm not used to this emotion, and I'm not enjoying it. It seems completely foreign to me and I'm not sure what to make of it yet...

No longer holding the telecommunications device, I could only imagine the worry the damsel's feeling as she is listening to my cries of anguish. I look up towards the light with the hope of catching a glimpse so I can mount my assault on his furry little body. My attempt was in vein as when I looked up I was blinded by the brightness. The assassin saw my blunder and mounted his final attack. As I stood there momentarily blinded, that distinctive hum came right at me. "No... NO.... NOOO" I yelled as I heard it. Wham! He dive bombs into my forehead knocking me back. Now I'm struck with complete and utter fear. I'm so panicked that I drop to the floor and grab the telecommunications device. "I can't do it! I'm scared!!!" I cry to the damsel, who is now concerned for my distress. An odd reversal I know, but sometimes things just don't make sense. Panic stricken I jump up and run out of the food dispensing chamber yelling "You may have one this time moth, but I'm gunna get you back! YOU HEAR ME?!?!". On my way out I turn off the light, getting rid of his advantage over me. "I have to go!" I say panic stricken to the damsel on my telecommunications device and hang up abruptly. I make haste to my sleep chamber, enter, and sealed the hatch shut so that the assassin cannot reach me... In complete darkness I look up as if to look at God. A single tear runs down my left cheek. I'm not used to this salty discharge so I'm rightfully concerned about this new feeling of fear that’s taken me over. I whisper a quick prayer. "Lord, thank you for sparing me this day. I pray next time you make me fast and accurate in my assault on the furry bastards."

After my quick prayer I lie down on the sleep device and close my eyes. I let out one last whimper of fear before I come to a realization... The realization that perhaps I'm not just a warrior who fights moths. Perhaps I'm much much more than that... Could I be? No, I couldn't... Am I the one born to finally rid the world of the moth? Could I have been chosen by God to rid the world of this vile beast? I must have been! It’s obvious now! Why else would God have spared me this eve? In the still quiet of the dark sleep chamber I hear something that nobody else can hear. "Let not the blood of man be spilt by moth for thyne is the chosen one." No longer am I feared. No longer am I panicked. For I now know why I am here. I now know who I really am. I am a warrior... I AM.... The chosen one...

Operation "New Gotchies"

I must start out by explaining to all you Easterners and people from foreign lands what gotchies actually are. It is a distinctly Canadian, and moreover, Western Canadian term for underwear, underpants, panties, drawers etc... How did this word come to be? Well, since its a distinctly Western Canadian word not much is known about the origins. Should I do a thesis on the subject? Perhaps, but for now we aren't going to broach past the inner ramblings of a madman. ie: me! So where was I? Ah right, the word gotch. Whoever coined the word "gotch" should definately be in the history books as the greatest Canadian wordsmith of all time! Well, lets just say, if it was put to a vote, I would vote for the gotch man. Back on subject...

My theory behind the word gotch is as follows: I think that one day in the early 20th century in some southern Saskatchewan town a mom got her yearly package delivery of clothing supplies from the Hudson's Bay Co. for her family. She had ordered new underpants for everyone in the family, seeing that purchased ones were a bit more comfortable than the woolies she made from scratch. Nobody seemed to like those at all. After supper was over she opened up the box and handed out the underpants to her family while saying "look what I gotcha from the Hudson's Bay". I mean after all, you know as well as I do, some Saskachewanians have a bit of a hickish nature to their way of speaking. Upon saying "gotcha" her son probably thought it was funny and pestered her to no avail. And of course, this lead to him telling his friends that funny thing his mom said, and she, telling her friends what a smartass her son was. Its kind of a Yin Yang sort of thing. And knowing how back in the old days kids actually had imaginations, the word gotcha shortened to "gotch", caught on mighty quick!

Now don't get me wrong, the word "gotch" isn't as simple as you all may think. Its actually quite a complicated noun to master the use of. It starts from the root word gotch, obviously, which is the simple part. Here's where it turns into a conundrum. The plural of gotch can be gotch as well!? How can that be? Lets take a look at it shall we: "I have a pair of gotch." (singular) Or, "Look at all the gotch I have." (plural) Its mind boggling really how the root word can also be the plural as well. Lets delve further into the plural form a bit more. "Gotchies" is also a plural version and can be used as follows: "I have many gotchies". Further, "gitch" can also be used in place of gotchies: "I have lots of gitch". Its quite the versatile word and not only do I use it often, but I'll continue to use it until my death!

Now that we have learned what the word "gotch" is, and how to use both its plural and singular form, I think its time to tell you my story. Its an odd story, nothing like this blog has seen before. I'll start out by saying for as long as I remember I've been a briefs wearin' kind of guy. Thats 25 years of briefs. Thats a long time. I hate to admit it, but in my late teens I had some sort of retarded phase that I enjoyed wearing the bikini briefs. Why? I honestly don't know! Its not like they were a g-string for men. And its not like I was taking off my clothes for money and just had the little dink pouch. They were just briefs with a little less leg cuff. Nothing racy about them, but perhaps they made me feel naughty? Needless to say, these smaller gotch are at the bottom of the drawer (pun not intended) and only ever get pulled out in an emergency. Emergencies like last week when I had not 1 clean pair of briefs and had no choice but pull out a pair from the mini gotch pile. Thing is, I've gained quite a bit of weight since I wore them, so basically they were way to damned small and tight. Thats right ladies, I know your turned on right now so "don't act like your not impressed." But I digress... Over the past few months I've been noticing that the briefs aren't accommodating me as well as they used to. Like I said, I've gained a bit of weight since my younger years and its affecting the old gotch situation. It seems lately that my ass has a hunger so voracious that it bites at all that comes near it, and its favorite food is the cotton of my gotch! I can't lie... The cotton has started riding up my butoxel region on a daily basis and I can't help but dig at it until I'm comfortable again. The bad thing is, I don't even care about being discreet anymore! I just go at it like it owes me money! Diggin' the natural wedgie out has become a common event for me every day and its not good. I mean when people at work ask if I have a problem, or are curious about what I'm doing I just say "I'm having gotch problems..." So you know it has become an issue... But they usually laugh and leave it at that. So having this problem spawns many conversations about gotch and different types of gotch, and perhaps I should try a new kind. A new kind? What other kind is there? I have briefs, and a few remaining pairs of the binkini briefs, I hate boxers... Are there any other kind I ask? A workmate of mine says "yeah man, I swear by boxer-briefs and have for years!" "Really?" I retort with. So he goes on about why he likes them and that perhaps I should try a a pair myself. So after about a week or 2 of consideration I finally made the plunge to get new gotch! I know what your thinking... Men usually only buy gotch 2-3 times in their life and its usually only when the ones already owned are completely utterly useless. The rest of the time you get them with your X-mas gifts. Anywho... I go to the local gotch store, lets call it Walmart, and purchase a 2 pack of these boxer briefs. I take them to the counter girl and say "Hello shop keep. I'd like to purchase these fine washables, but don't wrap them up too tight because I'd like to wear them now." She stared at me blankly and rang them through the till. I gave her the money and fled the premesis like I just stole something. Its a wierd thing to buy gotch really. Everyone wears them, its not like they are fancy, but you just feel wierd buying them...

Let me explain something about the boxer-brief. They are comfortable, they have a bit of support, not as much as the brief, but its still there. But its not like the boxer where your just hangin' out there for the world to see. I don't like the hang, there's gotta be some dink support or whats the point really? Its the perfect merger of the worlds 2 most worn gitch.

Ok, so now I'm into day 2 of "operation new gotchies", and my second pair of boxer brief and I must say I'm completely satisfied! I don't want to say there is zero natural wedgie, however its been a 99% improvement on the old version. It took a few days of getting used too, but it seems that I'll be a boxer-brief man for life! I highly suggest you all try them as they are phenomenal!

I'm a celebrity look alike?!?!?

It has come to my attention recently that due to circumstances and something funny I did, I now look like a celebrity! Just think of it! Me a celebrity look alike? What sort of wonderous adventures could I have pretending to be a Hollywood Star? I'm betting all sorts of jockularity would come of it? But wait a second... Who? Whom indeed! What famous person from Hollywood do I look like? Well lets look a the current facts: I'm 25, bald, kinda chubby... There is nobody that I can think of in Hollywood that I look like... Or can I? Come to think of it I can think of many many actors that I bear a similar resemblence too. Lets do a quick showcase of a few popular bald guys that we all know:

1) Paul Schaffer: This guy is a God amongst men in the music business. I can only think of 2 other guys in his calibre of piano playing, neither of which I look like (Billy Joel and Elton John... Gosh, just imagine being associated to Elton John because you look like him?!?!?). But Paul, good ole' Paul is not only an accomplished music artist, he's a funny guy AND he's Canadian! I mean c'mon, what guy wouldn't want to be mistaken for this stud from the Late Show? He busts his ass for Letterman every night and not only does the audience love his nassaly sarcastic laugh, but he has on occassion busts out some monologue thats funnier than what the writers have given Dave! I for one would love to be mistaken for this genius. Because not only is he a genius when it comes to music, but he's definately a hit with the ladies!

2) Butterbean: Shown here, looking a bit worse for ware mind you, is the worlds largest, toughest, meanest most badass of all the prize fighters! I mean with a record of 70-4-4 how more badass could a guy be? I would be amazed if I was to be compared to a chubby bald guy like him. This man is most definately someone I'd have no problem being mistaken for! Because really, if you think I'm Butterbean, chances are you'd be scared of me and thus my power over you would be easier to accept. Its not that I'm forceful by nature, in fact I'm quite gentle. But if you think that I'm Butterbean and I have the option to be mega dominant. Then you better watch out because I'll take full advantage of the situation you just put me in! Maybe I'd make you do things like stand on your head or scream like a girl, or if your a girl, scream like a guy. Trust me, it would be easier for me to accomplish you thinking I was actually him. So all in all, a good candidate to be a look-a-like of.

3) Michael Berryman: What can I say about this guy??? He's a sex machine! Just look at him!!! I mean with rugged good looks like his its a wonder he's not further ahead than all the male superstars of Hollywood! The head that seems a bit too large and pointy, the big ears, little eyes that are beedy and a bit to far apart, scrunched up boxers nose, funny little grin... C'mon ladies, isn't this the little sex muchkin that you all dream of? Well... Maybe your not dreaming of a scandelous midnight romance under a full moon and stars with him, but he's definately the creepy dude watching you get it on from behind the bushes to the left! HAHA! Seriously though.. This is one creepy looking dude. He better be packin below, because he doesn't have much goin' for him up top. Needless to say, I would be shocked and appauled if someone mistook me for this guy. Of course I'd have some fun with it, but he's not someone I'd like to live my life looking like.

Well. They all are bald white guys in Hollywood, but none of them have that same debonaire stature that I hold myself too. So who is this mystery actor I look like??? Who could it be? (scroll down to find out)



























Why its Jamie from Mythbusters on the Discovery channel of course!!! Look at us!! We're quite the pair aren't we? Now being a look-a-like to him is awesome, because not only is he "in the now", but he does crazy shit on T.V. like blow up toilets! This all came to pass a few weeks ago at work when a co-worker, lets call her camera girl, took a picture of me and another co-worker at a staff hot dog bbq. I being the MS Paint chop wiz cut my head out of the picture, then found a hat website and added that sexy red French Foreign Legion beret. God I look sexy don't you think? We both do really. We could pose as family! I, his younger brother with just the chin goatee ready to take on the world, and him with his handlebar moustache could win over all the women in the universe! It would be the best time ever! And just think, together our facial hair make 1 full beard! Wow. Think of all the trouble I could get myself into passing myself off as him, or just his little brother! Quite the team we'd make blowing up toilets on T.V. too. Either way, I now look like someone from Hollywood, and though I'm happy, I'm not going to use my new found gift to scandelize the women of the world. Perhaps I'll use my new found power of look-a-like-dom for good, like blowing up toilets. I don't know how that will help, but I'm sure I'll think of something :)