Denglish 63: My German Wife Explains American Underwear

I’ll be real honest with you, Dear Reader… I hate shopping. It doesn’t matter what I’m shopping for — it could even be for something I like and genuinely want to purchase — it’s the process I can’t stand. Getting in the car and driving to the store (‘cuz this is ‘Merica, goddammit, and walkin’ is fer queers); pacing around inside the store trying to locate the item I need while dodging a gaggle of loud, poorly trained children; choosing between similar items based upon a stressful balance of price v.s. quality; then giving up my hard-earned money to some highschool kid with tight black jeans and a facade of bored confidence so thin I could fold it up like a paper airplane and sail it across the room, where it would jab one of those poorly trained children right in the eyeball and provide me with the only moment of this shopping experience I might actually enjoy.

Maybe it’s because I’m a guy, or maybe it’s because I’m an incredibly lazy guy, but I think you’ve guessed by now I do not go shopping often. If I do go shopping, it is almost certainly because my wife forced me to go (and probably under threat of domestic violence utilizing her freakish German strength). Back in November of 2011, my wife made me go shopping for underwear because almost every pair of boxer briefs I owned had holes in them. And not like those little holes appearing from normal use — I’m talking about huge holes where the elastic band has torn away from the rest of the undergarment like a crescent moon rising above my bitter pink juicy fruits.

So, as we were driving through Beaverton, Oregon, we stopped off at a Ross store (because in addition to being lazy, I am also cheap) where we found several new pairs of boxer briefs for me. I have no idea which brands they were; Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss, Polo Ralph Lauren — just thinking about these things gives me a headache — but apparently they were of pretty high quality, because as we were leaving the store, my wife informed me in yet another fine Denglish moment…

THE WIFE: “We got good brand name underwear for you. It is better than buying Fruit of the Lube.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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14 thoughts

  1. If you want to avoid those gaggles of poorly trained children, do your shopping in Germany! I’ve found that German kids — and German dogs — are infinitely better behaved than American kids. In fact, given the number of dogs (especially HUGE dogs) in Berlin, after living here for 2 years, I find myself surprised when I hear barking.


  2. Favorite line: …facade of bored confidence so thin I could fold it up like a paper airplane…
    Second fav: …crescent moon above my bitter pink juicy fruits.
    Your wife is fabulous! Although you already know that.


  3. What is it with you men and underwear? Mine wears them so long they have huge holes in the ‘cradle’ area (usually from ripped open seams) and I am afraid his naughty bits will dangle below the undies. What sense does underwear like that make.

    Granted, I hate shopping as much as the next guy but at least I am handy enough with needle and thread to avoid “crescent moons”. A dying craft I’m afraid.


      1. Nah, just my own. He can go out and buy new ones for himself after I have thrown out the dangle danger ones. Love only goes so far. After all, we’ve been married for 5 years already ;-)


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