PANTS.

May. 1st, 2007 10:58 pm
dearorlando: (boxers DO)
[personal profile] dearorlando
This week has been fuckin’ pants, man. Ever have one of those days when it seems like you bodged up everything you did? I’ve had a whole week like that.

So here’s the question for this week.

Dear Orlando,

Boxers or briefs?

Signed,
Just Curious




See? Just PANTS, I tell you.




Dear Curious,

I knew this was coming after what happened last Thursday.

Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to believe everything you read? Especially if it’s NOT accompanied by evidence. If you can buy it in the market while you’re standing in the queue waiting to drop a couple of pounds on jaffa cakes and tea bags, it’s probably just bollocks.

So it’s funny you should ask....

Boxers, mate. Hangin’ free. I’ve been wearing boxers for most of my adult life. I thought most people already knew, since I get asked so much about my tattoo it seems like all people think I do is sit under a tree and contemplate my navel, and every time I show it, there’s my pants hanging out the top of my trousers. I’ve got blue and red stripes, blue and white stripes, blue AND red tartan plaids, solids and patterns, and even a pair with the Union Jack on them.

Sometimes wardrobe isn’t happy with boxers, though. Makes sense when you consider Jimmy Connelly with a pair of Sponge Bob Squarepants boxers under those white satin trunks. Or how about Legolas with boxers under his leggings? Talk about getting your knickers all in a wad!

I had to wear these little black briefs under my skirt for Troy. Man! Those fuckin’ things CHAFED!!! I had raw places in places you don’t wanna know about. When we filmed that scene where Paris gets his arse kicked by Helen’s ex, I ended up on my arse in the dirt a couple dozen times before we got a wrap. I had so much fuckin’ sand in those briefs I had to get wardrobe to rinse them out and let them sun-dry three times before that one damned day was up.

They could’ve at least gotten me a spare pair, but NOOOO--

Hey! Maybe that’s why Brendan kept missing his lines....

No. Just fuck no.

Brad wanted everybody to go starkers underneath, like the real Trojans did. That was until Eric stripped off. Then Achilles decided for some reason that he would only be starkers in the scenes that didn’t have Hector in them.

What’s with that?

I mean, I don’t get why Brad wouldn’t want to be nuddy in scenes with Eric. Eric’s... well, ERIC.

I wouldn’t have minded.

I DO get why we had to wear little black briefs under those skirts, though. Those freakin’ skirts were short, man.

SHORT.

Whew.

Anyway, while we were all sitting around drinkin’ beer and thinking of whether or not we wanted to bust the piñata now or later, I tried to get Pitt to ditch his tighty-whiteys and wear boxers all the time. He and Jen were thinking about having a baby, 'cause this was back before he became Mr. Jolie, and I talked to him about how wearing boxers helps with male fertility and all that. After all, he was playing Achilles, and I was playing Paris, and Achilles’ parents were the whole reason behind the “Prettiest” apple contest that led to The Trojan War anyway. Paris gave the golden apple to Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, and then Aphrodite promised Paris he could get it onand boink Helen, The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, except Helen was draggin’ her own ball and chain at the time, and to top all THAT off, Odysseus had to go and run his gob to Helen’s dad that he should make all her boyfriends promise to defend whomever she ended up marrying, even if it wasn’t them. And this was all back before Helen ever even laid EYES on Paris, before she got all pissed that I was prettier than her, and--

Hey!

See, it was Odysseus who really caused the whole melee, not Paris. Why does Bean get to be THE MAN in this film, and I’m just a big old girl’s blouse?

Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell.





So, like I told Brad, if you really wanna to spend all your time changing nappies, you need a lot of sperm in your spunk. Like, ten billion of the little swimmers or something. And sperm bloody well don’t like heat. That’s why your naughty bits include a set of bollocks on your outsides, mate. To lower the heat. Even though when you touch a guy’s nads, things will surely heat up in OTHER PLACES, not just his noggin’.

Yeah....

What was the question?



Oh, yeah.

Boxers. Burgundy, not bright red.
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