*Do you think there is someone who sits in a room all day thinking up names for military operations? Because that would be the perfect job for me. It would combine my love of secrecy and feeling important with my useless gift for thinking of band names.
I'm not sure why it is, but I see a lot of butts. Not as many as a proctologist or other butt doctor, but more than the average citizen.
Big butts, small butts, hairy butts, smooth butts, white butts, brown butts, clean butts, dirty butts. Butts butts butts butts butts! I see them all.
(Speaking of butts, Owen's local pub has ashtrays full of water to discourage the 'butt men' - hobos who come and nick off with the cigarette butts from the ashtrays and, in their heyday, would snatch half-smoked cigarettes from the mouths of punters! I think they need a sign saying "Beware of the Butt Men.")
I don't mean "I see a lot of butts in a romantic setting," I mean "Something about me attracts the naked buttock." If someone is going to see a butt, it is probably going to be me. Like moths to a flame, the buttocks come. (Andrea calls me Seymour, as in Seymour Butts. Once she drew an awesome cartoon of me recoiling in horror from a pair of scummy buttocks.*) And yesterday a pair of unsolicited and very naked buttocks landed in my email inbox - during work hours, no less - and I was reminded of this curse I bear.
Many times I have been walking home from work at night and passed a gentleman in an alley peeing against a wall, and always, I see his buttocks! But I also see the accidental buttocks of friends, the hit-and-run buttocks of acquaintances, and the demurely displayed buttocks of would-be-lovers.
Once I was having drinks with a friend and went to the bathroom to drain the lizard (I don't have a lizard, I just really like that phrase). When I came back into the lounge, he had removed his trousers and turned to face the window, so that I could see his buttocks.
Once I got up in the morning and went into the bathroom to drain the lizard-which-I-do-not-have, and when I came back out I heard a whoop and there was my flatmate, naked as the day he was born, scampering up the hallway to his room with his back to me, so I could see his butt. (To be fair, he did come into my room later, very contrite, and say, "Ally...I'm sorry you saw my bum." Turns out he had been going to get a snack in the nude because he thought there was no-one home.)
What is this? Is this some kind of curse? Did I anger the gods? Or am I just a weird butt tourist?
*Operation Scummy Buttocks would be a good name for a military operation.