Where I Wear Bright Green Underwear

(This is me spitting on my hands, shrugging my shoulders back, and throwing caution to the wind.) I don’t mean to brag or nothing, but I’ve been takin’ three showers a day. Three, trois, 参. I’m not sure how the Yokosuka locals roll, but Japan in full summer doom is sticky. Especially so this year if my grinning, clammy conversations ‘round town’re true. Very hot this year, hai? I ask taxi drivers, baristas. Hai, will undoubtedly be the reply, along with a perfunctory bow. Talking ‘bout the weather translates in any language.

United States Penitentiary, Leavenworth

United States Penitentiary, Leavenworth

Times are so dire, I’ve even resorted to taking a shower before I exercise. I feel like a traitor if I get into perfectly clean PT gear while a hot, sweaty mess. (Yes, both Ed Snowden and Brad Manning do not shower before pt’ing. Word from Leavenworth is that Private Manning himself does not shower at all, so petrified is he. The second word is that Chelsea, née Bradley, is looking to add the two letters Wo to the beginning of her last-name. Love the title of this Time Magazine article, Chelsea Manning Making Friends in Prison. Bet she is.)

The last time I sweated this much was two years ago, on the USS Midway. I was the award’s boy at a Captain’s retirement. My job was passing citations and plaques to the Admiral who presented the retiring officer with his many honors. He was a great guy, the Captain, and when he asked me to participate in his retirement, I’s both happy and honored. (For the uninitiated, I’s is the obscure, Northeastern Carolinian contraction of I was.) Still, the retirement was on the black deck of the USS Midway, moored in the San Diego harbor. In June. I sweated all the way through my Service Dress Blues. (It is possible, I am a great sweater.) And I took my white dress shirt to the cleaners twice trying to get the ring-around-the-collar out. After the second try, my dry-cleaner smiled at me. It is permanent, she said. I am so sorry.

Being a sweaty freddy (or the more formal Swedrick Fredrick if you are uncomfy with the familiar form) means changing my clothes often. Theoretically, an advanced mathematical degree in theoretical algebra is not needed to determine that three showers a day equates to at least three changes of clothes if one is to observe Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz’s secret rule of secretion.

Note: any links to said rule are carefully monitored worldwide and disabled by those in the know. Rare is the regulation with secret in its title twice. So, you’ll just have to trust me. For those of you in on the racket that is modern math, I’ll humor you with the irrational equation: {⋮⋮⋮79℉⋮⋮⋮ ⇎ ⋮⋮⋮81℉⋮⋮⋮ ⇎ ⋮⋮⋮80℉⋮⋮⋮} ≅ {FRESH SKIVVIES ↭ FRESH SKIVVIES ↭ FRESH SKIVVIES} ± ☺

Free trigonometrical tangent: a little known fact on Leibniz, he was quite the adept lover. In fact, before he became a cutting-edge math-wrangler, he was known as Gottfried Wilhelm Niz. The Leib (direct from the German word for love, liebe) and other hurrahs, came later when his reputation was cemented in arithmetic lore. Mrs. Niz, simultaneously also conferred with the Leib honorific, used to recount how Herr Niz calculated the precise closing speed and azimuth of his lips to hers, an intersection of the perfect kiss. Two feet a second at 315 degrees. Recalculating cosine. Ja ja. Change course to 300 degrees. Smooooooch! Quite the lovah, he was.

Lily of the Valley

Lily of the Valley

Alright, so back to our sweaty story of Nippon humidity. The one piece of haberdashery that I do not require more of in Japan, is underwear. I’ve lots of the tactical gear, thanks to a bonanza find of perfectly sized mentionables at Ross (Dress for Less.) The one issue with my name-brand (ahem) nether support: it came in slightly non-traditional colors. Yes, I have bright neon-green underwear. (You lucky devils, normally this info is very tightly held.) Also, two purples- both the darker, evening variety that I tend to wear with my mahogany-scented smoking jacket, as I leaf through my many leather-bound books. And a lighter, more plummish purple, that I reserve whence clipping my award-winning Lilies of the Valley.

Ooops, there goes my rep. You do realize though that these lilies are poisonous, right? I dip my arrow-tips in a simmering vat of the stuff before I hunt oryxes in Kilimanjaro. Phew, my near-stellar rep’s back. Sort of. And yes oryxes, you betta consider the lilies of the field the next time we cross paths.

Unwritten man rule, dudes shall not talk of underwear color. A blind grab in the morning, with no thought as to hue, is the sole masculine way. Any deference in matching up color with daily activity is cause for immediate revocation of said man card. As in, I shall be promenading the beach later on the boardwalk, perhaps a nice turquoise would be appropriate? Two hand claps. Jeeves, bring the sea-foam pair around, would you? Instant man card recall. Other testosterone fouls are also cause for license revocation. I’ve lost mine temporarily over several blogposts. Most notably this.

My underwear color

Envious?

Very true story about my neon green polyester, cotton, and spandex wonders: I almost flashed a full room of naval professionals with said fabric. Thirty seconds before I was about to teach a thirty minute module in my field, I happen to glance down and check my drawbridge. Who knows what compelled me to circle the moat? Would you believe it, my fly was 100% down! Any lower and you woulda seen my ankle tattoo of Yosemite Sam. I turned, zipped up without a soul noticing (or at least that is the story I tell myself), and proceeded to rock a great brief. (I resisted the temptation to yell: Man thar gates. The enemy, he advances upon us! Steady men, steady.) It is easy to be lite and airy when just moments ago you were lite and airy.

For the easily nerve-wracked, it is a common Toastmaster tactic to imagine your audience naked. (Note: this does not always work in Navy circles. It might cause unintended retching. Have you seen some of those albino walrus Chiefs we got?) But what if I turned the strategy of imagining the audience naked on its back and I imagined myself the same way? Heck, I almost pulled it off in the real-world. Who needs imagination when I leave my fly gaping open?

Tommy Lee Jones, Boss Coffee

Tommy Lee Jones, Boss Coffee

In Japan, there are many hydration options. For some reason, Tommy Lee Jones does ads for Boss coffee, a Japanese java corp. It is a little unnerving, seeing his serious mug all over town. On nearly every vending machine, Angry-Bone-Jones glares at me, you if you want a drink. No smile. For this reason alone, I don’t drink Boss coffee. Screw him and his tut-tutting. There is another beverage called Pocari Sweat. Yes, you read that correctly. Pocari Sweat. I’m not sure who Pocari is, nor why he is bottlin’ his sweat. (Could it be this curious fellow?)

Wow, this was a ridiculous post. I would apologize, but you read it all! (Shame on you, what were you thinking?) As for my fragile dignity, heck I wear neon green under-roos ‘neath my uniform! I’ve no shame. And speaking of color, tomorrow I report in to the ship. I am thinking a nice haze-grey pair of boxers, no? My other pairs’ll be green with envy.

25 thoughts on “Where I Wear Bright Green Underwear

  1. NavyOne, do you know how early it is here in the good ole USA? Ha ha! I read this while drinking my morning coffee….

    I just have one piece of advice: please DO check the hue if you are required to wear whites.

  2. I had similar thought as Lil. It’s early, and you seem to be throwing out some crazy stuff. A little bored maybe?? Well, we are not. And Lil is right on the wearing of whites – do check the color of the undies – and never wear undies with a smiley face when wearing whites. We women are conscience of our underwear – sometimes we wear matchy-matchy – sometimes we wear wild colors – sometimes we wear crazy sexy – it makes us feel special and maybe a little wicked.

  3. NavyOne, you appear to be turning native me old chum…

    When I was serving, there were three things that were never discussed between Marines.

    * A mans under-crackers (negative use going commando), so there was never ever any need to do so.

    *A mans Mother and her ‘yumminess’ factor…

    *A mans sister, and any variation on her attributes…

    I’s going to mention the ‘fourth’, but this is a family show…

    Yours Hai.

  4. Lil C: I’ve seen two lay-dees that dropped the ball on this one. In whites, a female Sailor was wearing black panties. And another was wearing a tiger stripe bra (rawr.)
    CP: Haha! Hey, I check into my ship tomorrow. I’ve got to work off a little steam.
    Lou: Heh heh. Crazy is in the eye of the beholder. . . Or so said Robin Williams.
    EB: Was the fourth if a guy liked playing with this?

  5. Ummm… what IS this “underwear” about which you speak? ;-)

    As for hot in Nippon… I did two and a half years in Tokyo, so I most certainly relate. I rode a mo’sickle back and forth from my apartamento in Musashi Koganei to my place o’ bid’niz on Yokota Airplane Patch in Tokyo traffic. Diesel fumes. Heat. Sweat. Yup… been there, done that. The saving grace was my intended had the bath fired up for me when I got home; a good wash-up, a long soak, and a couple o’ three Sapporos fixed all that.

  6. You know Navy One, I was sitting in my new doctor’s office in the Dallas area this afternoon reading of your trials and tribulations with your underwear, literally laughing my asterisks off with all your continuing travails….trying not to make a total ass of myself by laughing too much or keeping myself from rolling on the floor…please Navy One, for the past three years, I’ve had to endure over 100 degree weather throughout the summers here which start in June with a veritable blast from the dominions of Hell and you’re whining about a few bad days…this type of weather lasts here three to four months straight…give me a break…I can more than sympathize with you but let’s not get maudlin….good luck…do hope you find yourself a well air conditioned abode soon…and live to tell us about it…k

  7. Heh…I love the unhinged Navy One! As for the undies, I had you pegged for boxers with little hearts on them…neon green is way too utilitarian. : p

  8. Buck: I flew into Yakota and it was indeed hot out there too. I like Yokosuka better, simply because it has more variety (that I saw.)
    Kris: Haha! Glad to hear you got a chuckle or two.
    Pax: I am not sure that is the right swaddling for me privates. Wallabies make me a little nervous.
    Lauren: Hearts? Naw, the way I eat, I have stomachs on mine!

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