Say it ain’t so!
It can’t be! Why it seems like only yesterday I was frolicking in a pile of brown leave. Basking in the glow of the autumn sunlight. Celebrating the end of another swampass season.
And I wasn’t half as happy as Big Jim and the Twins.
A warmer than usual winter has rushed the onset of Swampass2012. Our official launch into muskiness began this morning when I dusted my nether regions with magic from a can.
Swampass Season is a photogs least favorite. We can handle freezing our twigs and berries in a snow bank while Darla Darling oozes cuteness warning of Snomageddon. We don’t mind pack-muling the entire engineering department through the sand because a stacker wants to see the surf. Hell, we’ll even raise the mast in a thunderstorm if it will keep that patch of denim between our legs dry.
Things ain’t looking good this year. March Madness has barely begun, and my boxers are already so heavy with sweat they could fill a boy scout’s canteen. So a word to photogs and people who love them everywhere. Keep the dangling parts dry, or you’ll be seeking the services of my favorite summertime product.
turdpolishertv 
And for the female interns who may read your post…
Guess what ladies, its not just a male problem with their little buddies. The post above semi-applies to you too and more. In addition to crotch and derriere sweating, I’ve got two words for you: “boob sweat.” I’ll just be blunt and say that two sweating melons on your chest trapped inside a tight-fighting piece of cloth makes for a rather uncomfortable experience. If you wear a light-colored shirt and have two wet half-moons going on to the point one can see what you are wearing underneath, you will also be inviting comments and stares from young (and old) men as well. If the twins stay wet and chafing long enough, you will even get a rash and those ain’t fun either.
Butt-paste helps, antiperspirant helps as does good ole corn starch.
Miss E, I’ll share my spray with you any day.