It's like the boner tuck. All guys know it. Sitting in some lame survey course with an endless stream of power point presentations in front of you. The mind drifts. The pants buldge. If you're to stand-up, somebody might as well go sleep in the tent you've just pitched.
Similar to the penis tuck, I pulled an almost parallel maneuver when walking my dog to the car this past weekend. Without a grocery bag, paper towel, or New York Post in-hand, I had nothing else to do when I noticed my dog about to lay cable in the lawn of the apartment complex nearby. I looked around. The coast was clear. Quickly and calmly, I removed my running shoe (this has to tie into running somehow). I pulled off my black sock. I scowered the area once more. Two bikers and some passing cars at about 35 mph. I reached down. Fake scoop. Fake scoop. Fake scoop that almost touched.
I know. Judge me how you will. However, if you haven't already, you'll be in my shoes, too. And when you are, you'll remove those shoes, reach for your sock and start fake scooping. Just don't make contact.
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