Monday, August 29, 2005

Hobbit Hovel

This past weekend, Hot Toddy and I headed for the Oregon Coast. We both needed to get away and enjoy some downtime. We both had emotional things we needed to process (more on that in a later post) and batteries that needed to be recharged. So, at the last minute, I contacted the rental agency I use and found a small house to rent in Tierra Del Mar which is outside Pacific City, Oregon.

The house I normally rent in Pacific City was not available, however, the rental agent suggested another house that had just been completely remodeled. “It sleeps six,” she boasted, “it should be plenty big enough for the two of you.”

The house I normally rent also sleeps six and is very comfortable. Two livingrooms, three bedrooms, great ocean view. I’m a walk down a sand dune away from being on the beach. I envisioned the accommodations of my usual rental to this other house and made the reservations.

I picked up Toddy, we stopped by C.C.’s to see Tim the Hot Toddtender and then headed for the coast. We arrived at the rental agency in Pacific City at 11 p.m. The agent told me she would leave a key with directions to the new house in an envelope on the door. We arrived to find no key.

I called the agent at home and her husband came back down to the office to make sure we were set. 20 minutes and a lot of confusion later, we were headed toward our weekend destination.

We had to drive around a bit to find our new digs. The agent said it was a small house – a small house that sleeps six…how small could it be? We pulled up in the driveway and tried to remain optimistic. The door that faced the street (a.k.a the dirt road) was, in fact, not the front door.

After trying the key for a couple of minutes myself, Toddy took over. I was about to come unhinged. First there was no key left for us; then it was the house we couldn’t find; then the key they gave us clearly didn’t fit.

Aggravated, I pulled my cell out and was preparing to rip the agent a new one gently advise the agent they had potentially given us the wrong key, when Toddy pointed out there had to be another door. At least one of us was being logical.

We walked around to the side of the house and found a set of French doors where the key did, in fact, fit. Exasperated from a two hour drive and twenty minutes at the rental office trying to clear up what day I actually did say we’d arrive, we were finally in.

Toddy was sweet enough to have unloaded the car and brought everything to the “front” door while I fought the key. Since I had back surgery last year, he rarely lets me carry anything significant in weight. After opening the house, we started gathering our belongings to bring them inside.

He had both arms loaded and was walking ten feet in front of me on the deck. I watched as he kind of wiggled his body – I thought he was adjusting the items he had in his arms. Then I saw his legs kind of kick out – I thought he was losing his balance. Then I heard him begin to laugh.

HT: Hey, Aub, you’re gonna love this!

AP: What’s that?

And then it happened.

I glanced up just in time to see Hot Toddy’s shorts fall to the ground around his ankles! I was laughing so gawd damn hard I had to stop walking and cross my legs to keep from peeing my pants. He was giggling as he tried to walk with his shorts down around his feet.

“I couldn’t pull ‘em up ‘cause my hands are full,” he said through the laughter.

Now, these shorts were clearly too big on Toddy in the first place - he had a belt on to keep them up. Yet there they were bunched up at his feet. It was like a little kid who drops their shorts to the floor at their feet and leaves them crumpled there. The leg holes created what appeared to be enormous empty circles. That leg-kicking thing I saw was actually him broadening his gait to try and keep his shorts up for as long as possible.

He never broke stride. He simply put his legs as far apart as they would go, keeping his shorts taut enough to waddle his undie-wearin’ ass into the house.

I tried to keep walking, but couldn’t. I was going to lose it if I took one more step. I was laughing at the top of my lungs. It was an all-consuming laughter that came from deep inside of me. I didn’t care that it was 11:30 p.m. and the neighbors might be sleeping. This was the funniest thing I had ever seen. Ever.

I took a couple deep breaths and was able to finally baby-step my ass into the house behind Hot Toddy. His long pullover covered his man parts. He set down that which he had carried in as we continued to laugh. I walked into the kitchen and sat down whatever I was carrying on the counter.

It was at this particular moment that I saw what sent me RUNNING to the bathroom to pee.

As Toddy bent over slightly to sit something down, I saw his bottom. Not his naked bottom, but his grandpa-undie-wearin’-I’ve-got-enough-material-in-the-ass-of-these-underwear-to-grab-a-fistful-of-material underwear. It looked like he had a load in his drawers!

It was so sweet. There were these long ass legs with his bunched up khaki shorts around his ankles, his pullover was so big that it was long enough to amply cover the torso and hips of a man that’s 6’6”, and his little ass was covered by these underwear that were too big to the point of the leg holes not fitting around his legs.

I lost it. I couldn’t speak. If I had said one fucking word, I’d have peed all over the floor.

Toddy was laughing or talking or something… I don’t know to be honest. I saw him reach down to pull his shorts up and that’s all I remember until after I came out of the bathroom. I think I experienced my first laughter-brownout.

We got everything into the house and looked around. House that sleeps six my ass! The agent was right, it was beautifully remodeled. Cobalt blue tiled countertops, claw foot tub, very nicely done. But this house was no more equipped to have capacity for six people than I was able to hold my pee while I laughed.

We looked around amazed. What they were calling the Tierra Tea House we were now calling the Hobbit Hovel. “It can too sleep six…“ Hot Toddy continued “…Hobbits.”

We poured ourselves an alcoholic beverage (or four) and headed out to the deck. Hot Toddy put on a CD that at one point started skipping. Todd rose to go inside and fix it. When he did so, he stumbled into the table almost knocking everything over. “It’s hard to be a drunk Hobbit” he jokingly slurred.

We went inside to freshen our drinks (oh, like we drink them slowly enough to EVER get stale) and Toddy put in another CD. While making my second third margarita, the Hobbit conversation continued:

AP: Geez, Hobbit Toddy, is that Hobbit fuck music?

HT: Yeah, it’s so we can make little Hobbits. Oh. Wait. Hobbits ARE little. It’s so we can make teeny, tiny, smaller-than-normal Hobbits. It’s the “Hobbit Love” CD.

It was at this point I tucked my thumbs in the front pockets of my jeans and started to dance a little Hobbit dance. Much to my pleasure, every time Hot Toddy recalled my Hobbit dance, he laughed.

Once we returned to the deck, I had to ask Hot about those underwear.

AP: So, Hot, what’s the deal with those grandpa underwear you’re wearing?

HT: What are you talking about?

AP: There’s so much material bagging in the ass you could grab a handful of cloth. It didn’t even look like the leg holes fit.

HT: Ohhhh. These are my “I’m hanging out with my lesbian friend this weekend” underwear. Doesn’t matter what underwear I’m wearing around you. I’ll save my hot underwear for when I’m with Thor. No offense or anything.

AP: None taken. This is going to make for a great blog!!!

HT: Just be sure people know I don’t live in grandpa undies.

Well…my job here is done.

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