Internet Shopping Misadventures: $20 Underwear

I'm not the kind of guy who typically blabs about what lies between his person and his Wrangler jeans. Not because it isn't polite conversation, but because, well, who really cares? However, I am breaking with tradition in this Clanging Bell post to talk about a recent experiment with some high-end briefs. Yes, when it comes to underwear, I became a card-carrying, brief-wearing member of the one percent.

Here's the thing, up until a year or so ago, I believed I was already a one percenter in the men's-briefs department. I've been wearing Tommy Hilfiger briefs for years. Currently at Amazon, you can have a four pack delivered (in two days for free as a Prime member) for $22.99. To prevent your head exploding from doing a little long division without a calculator, I've done the math. That works out to about $5.75 per brief. I think that's plenty to pay to keep Big Rusty and the boys from getting caught in my zipper.

Several months ago I was rescued from my fog of briefs ignorance when a buddy began regaling me with stories about the $25 per-pair Tommy John underwear he had begun wearing. He waxed on about the comfort, easy access and overall superiority of his briefs to any that had preceded his new top-dollar underwear. “It's like wearing nothing,” he insisted. "He really likes them," his wife chimed in. My curiosity was piqued. I like the idea of wearing nothing. I do it at home all the time. It used to scare the bejezzus out of the cat, but, hey, my house, my rules.

Despite wanting to share in his experience, I simply couldn't bring myself to pony up 25 bucks for one pair of underwear. Who does that? Sure, I want my junk to have a safe, cozy home, but I seemed to be adequately providing that with sub-six-dollar briefs. Plus, I didn't want something called Tommy John's that close to my business.

Here's a bit of advice, if you find yourself shopping on the Internet with a beer, a glass of wine or a pour of bourbon in one hand as you search with the other, stop, log off and walk away. Nothing good can come of it. Two or three days later you will find a salad spinner, a case of Rice A Roni or a couple of pair of $20 briefs on your doorstep. I've seen it happen.

As I was messing around on the Internet one day, a pop-up ad for Mack Weldon magically appeared. I had never heard of Mack Weldon, but there was a photo of some cut dude wearing a pair of Mack Weldon briefs. Wow, they looked good on him, I considered. I clicked on the ad, which landed me on its site, opening the door to $20 briefs.

I took the plunge and put two pair in my cart. As a new customer, I qualified for free shipping, if I spent at least $50; so, I bought a pair of $14 socks, too. I like socks, as my credit line with Bombas will attest. I can always use another pair of overpriced socks, I figured. A few days later my Mack Weldon package arrived.

I opened the package, admired my purchases and tossed the two pairs of briefs into my suitcase. I had a trip to Asheville the following day for a Hyundai event. I decided to use that stage as the maiden cruise for my high-end undies.

I slipped a pair on the first day and tried to calculate how they might be superior to my regular briefs. I came up with nothing. The briefs I chose are what the manufacturer calls 18-Hour Jersey Briefs. Maybe I should have sprung for the $24 AIRKNITx Briefs. Well, perhaps you need to pull on some pants to gain the full effect? I did. Nada. Then I decided that maybe I needed to give them the full 18 hours to be able to appreciate their superiority. At the end of the day, I remained unconvinced the $14 more I paid over my Hilfiger's was well spent.

And the kicker is, none of my buddies realized I was wearing $20 underwear. I spent the day with a bunch of these guys and the price of my underwear never came up in the conversation. Once, after the drinks began flowing, I almost blurted out, “I'm wearing $20 underwear! How much did yours cost?” But the urge quickly passed.

As for them feeling like you're wearing nothing at all, nah. The only way to feel like you are wearing nothing at all is to wear nothing at all. My days of going commando ended for good after my first screening of “There's Something About Mary.” The phrase “frank and beans” still gives me nightmares.

So, the great $20-Brief Experiment of 2019 was a bust. Maybe the socks will impress me.

One Way to Spend Indepence Day

Just another Sunday afternoon in South Florida.

I'm not the kind of guy who really does much in the way of celebrating the summer holidays. I don't have a circle of friends in Greenville who regularly get together for cookouts and other activities most associated with Memorial Day, Labor Day and Independence Day. (Yes, I used the politically incorrect term “Independence Day.” Many of those born after 1990, are scratching their heads and thinking, what the hell is Independence Day?) I'm usually left to my own devices for the summer holidays.

Hey, we never really needed a reason to head to someone's house and toss back a couple by the pool.

When I lived in Florida, any day the average person was free from work was cause to gather, tip a few beers, cook burgers and lounge around a friend's pool. This held true whether it was a state-mandated holiday or a weekend. I'm sure everyone wasn't as fortunate as I to have have a platoon of friends with a similar mindset to mine. Not everyone in South Florida was at the beach, on a boat or cavorting in a friend's pool, but an awful lot of folks were. It's probably the only thing I really miss about no longer living in Florida: Having an infinite supply of good friends with whom to goof off.

Consequently my Independence Day this year looked like any other day for me. I arose at my usual time, which is between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m. I was at my PC 20 minutes later responding to e-mails and hitting my favorite news sites. I then polished up a story for a client that I had written the day before. By 9:00, I was finishing up installing the new ceiling fan on the front porch. Thirty minutes later I was out mowing the dirt. I have about three-quarters of an acre to mow. Roughly 20 percent of that is flat. The rest is hill. Compounding the task are the swales for water runoff, running along two sides of my lawn. Mowing always requires about 90 minutes of work and at least that much time recovering afterwards. I skip the gym on mowing days; after all, how much cardio does a guy need? Even a fat, old guy?

After cooling down and eating a quick lunch, I had a decision to make: Shower, dress and head downtown for a few hours of bar hopping, or stay home and paint? I chose the latter. I had declared this the season to paint the outside trim of my house. Areas that suffer the brunt of weather, like step railings, get painted every two or three years, but this was to be an all-inclusive trim painting. For the first time in the 11 years owning this house, I was going to paint the front-porch and carport ceilings.

The front porch turned out rather well, I think.

Actually, I had already painted both those ceilings by that time. Last weekend, I pressure washed both the front porch and carport in preparation for painting. When I hit the painted areas in the carport, I stripped off a lot of the paint. My goal was to complete the carport painting before the next big rain.

I went ahead and painted the front-porch ceiling that day, while I had all the stuff off the porch and in the front yard. I didn't want to have to move all the furniture and the rug more than once. Both ceilings are bead board, which entails cutting in the grooves between each plank with a brush, then rolling the flats. I cut in and rolled the front-porch ceiling the same day as I pressure washed everything. I then moved all the porch furnishings back before night fall.

Another masterpiece in home renovation: the carport-painting project 2019.

The following day, I cut in all the grooves on the carport ceiling and then rolled it on Wednesday. This brought me to Independence Day. After lunch, I used painter's tape along the borders of the ceiling and then painted all the white trim. By 4:00, I had cleaned up the mess, showered and was cranked back in my recliner with a pour of Wathens bourbon and a little TV.

I grilled a steak and fried up some hash browns for dinner. I was in bed by 10:30. Another Independence Day for the record books. I was sufficiently bushed that my collapse into a sound sleep wasn't disturbed by all the fireworks exploding in the neighborhood.

Would I rather have been hanging out, drinking, laughing and eating too much potato salad? Yes, I would have. But, I managed to accomplish a lot. I can settle for that.