The Unpleasant Stain
‘You’re not wearing that?’ she says.
I consider the options. I could reply that, in actual fact, I am not and the whole thing is a figment of her imagination. Experience has taught me that although this may be personally satisfying, it is not a recipe for long-term conversational pleasure.
I remain silent.
‘Look at that.’
I admit there is An Unpleasant Stain of some sort near the lower portion of my shirt.
I scratch at it with a thumbnail in an absent-minded manner. After a while it is gone. I am now wearing a Clean Shirt.
It leads me to think. And here we have the significance of the Unpleasant Stain throughout the major stages of one’s life:
Stage 1: There Is An Unpleasant Stain. You are a child. You are ‘clarty’.
Stage 2: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are an adolescent. You have been masturbating.
Stage 3: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are in your early twenties. You are beginning a career, and realising your degree is not worth the paper it is written on (if you have a brain). You have been masturbating.
Stage 4: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are in your late twenties. In classic Gerry Rafferty ‘Baker Street’ style your life after work (you are now doing quite well) consists of bars, take-aways and taxis as you try and turn your brain off at the end of each day. Bars and take-aways lead to Unpleasant Stains. And you have probably been masturbating. (Nobody believes that ‘it is toothpaste.’)
Stage 5: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are in your early thirties. You have a number of children under the age of five. They are ‘clarty’. It rubs off on you. A pleasant evening’s masturbation is the stuff of your wildest dreams.
Stage 6: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are old. You are ‘clarty’.
Stage 7: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: It is You. You are dead.
I consider the options. I could reply that, in actual fact, I am not and the whole thing is a figment of her imagination. Experience has taught me that although this may be personally satisfying, it is not a recipe for long-term conversational pleasure.
I remain silent.
‘Look at that.’
I admit there is An Unpleasant Stain of some sort near the lower portion of my shirt.
I scratch at it with a thumbnail in an absent-minded manner. After a while it is gone. I am now wearing a Clean Shirt.
It leads me to think. And here we have the significance of the Unpleasant Stain throughout the major stages of one’s life:
Stage 1: There Is An Unpleasant Stain. You are a child. You are ‘clarty’.
Stage 2: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are an adolescent. You have been masturbating.
Stage 3: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are in your early twenties. You are beginning a career, and realising your degree is not worth the paper it is written on (if you have a brain). You have been masturbating.
Stage 4: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are in your late twenties. In classic Gerry Rafferty ‘Baker Street’ style your life after work (you are now doing quite well) consists of bars, take-aways and taxis as you try and turn your brain off at the end of each day. Bars and take-aways lead to Unpleasant Stains. And you have probably been masturbating. (Nobody believes that ‘it is toothpaste.’)
Stage 5: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are in your early thirties. You have a number of children under the age of five. They are ‘clarty’. It rubs off on you. A pleasant evening’s masturbation is the stuff of your wildest dreams.
Stage 6: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: You are old. You are ‘clarty’.
Stage 7: There Is An Unpleasant Stain: It is You. You are dead.
26 Comments:
Holy Crap. Nice analysis of the progression of a stain. Though, stages 2-4 involve masturabory stains, from which I do not believe women suffer. Is your stain study gender-biased? Do women follow a different progression or are we simply immune? Are women who do suffer stains gladly dykes?
Goodness. Yes it is a bit phallocentric. Erm.
Actually, I'm not going to give this any more thought than is entirely necessary.
Not that you've got time to experiment now that your old and busy, but I hear that a nice tube sock can help eliminate even the most strenuous of those ejaculatory trajectories.
Seems that most of my stains from the 20's thru 30's have been, not from masturbating, but red wine.
Great post...you are hysterical!
Lee: Many thanks. For your information, the industry term is 'wanksock'.
And your mother will not believe you when you claim to have blown your nose into it.
Hehe. I've got 2 sons myself and I have been prewarned by other mothers with older boys to never, ever, under any circumstances, pick up any dirty socks found under their beds.
And Wanksock is a friggin fantastic name for a band.
Excellent. Reminded me of Shakespeare "All the world's a stage" and all that. All the world's a stain. I've had some wine.
Lee: Shit. SHIT. You're right. I am starting a band.
They are correct. Do not touch the sock.
Windy: Welcome back. Don't worry about the wine. Do you know? Windypops is a much-used phrase at Tired Towers? I thought we had invented it.
I have several pieces of clothing which have stains... well, most of my pieces of clothing have stains. Apart from that, they're perfectly good pieces of clothing. So I keep wearing them, and plan that if anybody ever points one of the stains out, I will pretend it only just arrived and I didn't notice it was there.
Of course, I could faff about with stain removers or buy new clothes, but that would be Hard Work. And expensive. And Wasteful. So I don't.
P.S. I take it back, your blog is not Quite Good. It is Very Good.
Teehee Clare; that made me laugh. Damn oily colourful sauces, ruining so many of my clothes. Or, more likely, once I Stain, I can never be bothered to wash it straight away... Sigh.
BG
I think it's one of those words that lies dormant in one's vocabulary, and is only activated when you have kids. Along with talking a bit like you're doing a Frank Spencer impersonation and pronouncing "bloody" as "buddy", as in "is he cheeky? Yes he buddy is!" That might just be me.
Um, what the heck does "clarty" mean, Tired Dad? I have NEVER heard this word before. Indeed, even now I have not, except in my own head when I read it, but that wasn't out loud.
Well, what you do with a stain is this. You rub a bit of washing up liquid into it before it goes in the washing machine. And most times, it'll come right out.
I had a purpose once. I'm sure of it. I think.
Clare: Flattery. Much appreciated. Pretty much everything I own is discoloured in some way. If any asked, my reply would be, dependant on general hue of stain, 'snot, milk or vomit. Don't know which' or 'food or faeces. Don't know which.' Coupled with blank stare. No-one really asks anymore.
I too am sure something could be done about these stains. However, what with me being like a man and that, I tend not to give it too much thought.
Windy: Yeah. The last bit is just you.
*: Jesus. Where did you grow up? Clarty = mucky/grubby/etc.
NWM: My preferred method is to just leave everything as is until enough items of clothing are ruined to justify buying some black dye. And then not using it.
Bright orange Wanksock
flies proud from my airstrip pole
when windypops blow.
Women DO suffer
masturbatory stains - if
they masturbate me.
Oh very good.
Now, like * I never heard the phrase 'clarty' when I was growing up. The first place I heard it used was in Cardiff on New Year's Eve 2001, by a apoplectic man at his dog, which had just rolled in a puddle and then gratuitously pissed on the owner's leg. The leap of imagination was small when used in this context.
My mum tended to use the word 'disgrace' frequently. I should point out that this is in place of 'clarty', in case that sounds like a cry for help.
This reminds me - for reasons that I am unable to explain - of Monica Lewinsky: Why didn't she take her bloody frock down to Sketchley's once she'd got some Presidential Seal on it? Now there's clarty!
M_G: I too have regularly referred to as a 'disgrace'. Unfortunately, I never recall being especially messy on those occasions.
Mikey: In that insance, I think there is a big difference between 'clarty' and the far more ambiguous 'dirty'.
Hey.
Ferdinand de Saussure.
Discuss.
Nowt like a good stain. No I mean...oh fuck
Shakespeare's take on the seven ages is also good, of course, but I think his idea of the "justice" (stage five), which is the one stage where he differs in any substantial way from your list of stages, is not as accurate as yours. I remember being a new father, and being up because the baby cried loudly, and sometimes getting up so that my put-upon spouse would be conned into believing me to be a decent fellow. So I was always tired. Then the kid started school, and I was working late hours, so I was always tired. Then she finally got old enough to go to school by herself, but by that time my wife was having health problems, so I was always tired. Besides, my daughter was now a teenager, so I was always worried about the wankers she knew at school, and therefore sitting up nights worrying. (That hasn't changed now that she's in her twenties and in law school.) So I'm always tired. I've got the round belly Shakespeare mentions, all right, but the stains are from whatever I ate for lunch at my desk, because I'm in too much of a hurry to eat lunch without making a mess. Have I reached the sixth stage already? Life is short: I guess I should have masturbated more.
Dinners: Look, just...oh I don't know. We'll both pretend this didn't happen.
A: My eldest is four. You have just armed me with more information than I require.
Amanda: Fear not. For all the hygiene issues, boys ALWAYS love their mothers UNCONDITIONALLY. Unlike daughters, who you will spend your life having one very drawn-out argument with.
As I understand it.
Oh. Em.
I'm sure it'll all be fine
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