I Dare You To NOT Look At My Burlap-Crinkle!!!

Just a quick, little fun fact about my Oedipus costume. You've heard me talk about it (chicken bone vest, burlap loincloth, weird anklets and armbands made out of this stuff that looks like hay -- Jeff knows the name of it, it's very Festival Of The Lion King, and it starts with the letter R, but I can't remember it or spell it.) You may be seeing it in the Orlando Sentinel soon -- there was a photographer there tonight and he took about 3 million pictures of Tammy and me during what I call The Ewok Penecostal Moment.

But let's talk about burlap-crinkle. My burlap-crinkle.

After some hardcore tribal dancing and puppetry, we take a quick break and I go get some water. It's then that I notice that all the moving and crouching and general Spider-Man/monkey boy type stances have cause the burlap on the front of my loincloth to bulge outward. Cocksure, if you will...

And once you see such a sight, you can't unsee it. It burns itself onto the back of your retinas. White hot, blue-white, purple. You are stuck with the image of my sweet burlap-crinkle. See you in Hell.

Well, in more ways than one, I am filthy tonight. Time for a shower.

Is there a Greek god in charge of cleansing and soap suds. I feel like his name would be Loufa. Or is that Loofah? Or Loofa?