“NO SPEEDO ZONE” by Bob Larson

So everyone has a pet peeve. I don’t have many—as of yet—buthere’s one for the record; who knows, perhaps you’ll agree. One thing I cannot stand is dudes in speedos. No, really, I’m sorry, but I’m not kidding—it’s just wrong. Okay, sometimes guys can get away with it.The people who fall into this category are male models, male models, and—oh, yea—male models (chiseled celebrities also accepted). Please remember if you are very wrinkly or very globe-like or very ridiculously not good looking, a speedo will not help your cause.

Whew. I guess that makes me a speedo racist. I do discriminate against speedos, fine. I was always a boxers-over-briefs girl. But think about it for a minute, people. Sometimes less is not more. Sometimes, believe it or not, more is more.

I tried explaining my point of view to my mother the other day when we’d gone for a quick evening swim down at the beach. She didn’tseem to agree at first.

“I can’t stand speedos,” I mourned, watching as a bear—no, wait, that was a man (that was a man??)—eased himself into the sea a little ways away. The ashy sagging skin of his waist was held in place bya very precariously thin piece of bright blue material. That’s all. Onceupon a time, this may have been a gorgeous color and that may have been a gorgeous body—but some things, like diapers, need constant changing. They’re called trends for a reason.

“Who is Spyros?” my mother asked. My fluent English spattered with hesitant Greek is paired with her flawless Greek peppered with broken English—and makes a weird and wonderful mash of a language when all’s said and done. Pronunciation mistakes areas inevitable as they are entertaining, and, honestly, downright delightful, if you’re in the right mood.

“That’s Spyros?” Now I thought she knew the old man: second misunderstanding. “Mom, um, what?”
“Which Spyros?” my mom asked, glancing around, thinking I’d spotted one of my six hundred first cousins named Spyros.
“No, that’s not what I said,” I tried to explain. “Where’d you get the idea of Spyros?”
“Wait, who are you talking about?”
“Not me. You. You were talking about Spyros!”
My mother was adamant. “But who is Spyros??”

Well, that went on for a while. But good things take time to evolve. After a few minutes of misunderstanding, we finally reached the conclusion that No, you can’t wait a speedo unless and only unless you have a drop-dead-gorgeous license, and Yes, Spyros is theperfect code name for when we want to point out a speedo scene that will scar our eyes forever.

Or at least for a next thirty seconds.

 
“Angreek87″