Fritos and the Dip You Don’t Want

I just spent a very long few minutes talking to a guy who smelled like Fritos. Not his breath, that might have been OK because I like Fritos, but him, his body, it gave off a Fritos-like smell. You’d think there are worse things to smell like than Fritos but this wasn’t a pleasant smell and it gave me that bad gag feeling where your throat starts to close up and swallowing is difficult, if not dangerous.

Worse, the guy kept doing the crotch dip like he had some kind of compulsion about checking his business every minute to make sure everything was still present and accounted for. If you don’t know what the crotch dip is, it’s when you stuff is positioned a little off, or just plain stuck, so you bend your knees a little and thrust your hips and butt back a fraction and everything gets loosens and gets freed up and comfortable. It’s quick and discrete, it can be done anywhere and it works, and I’m pretty sure that most every guy does it at one time or another; unless he’s at home where discretion isn’t such a big deal. One dip is sufficient to get everything feeling right, but this guy did it and he kept doing it every few seconds. Talk: dip. Listen: dip. Talk: dip. Dip. Dip. Dip. Pretty soon you don’t even think about what he’s saying because you’re focused on how long until the next crazy dip and why he’s dipping. My imagination is good enough to think of a bunch of reasons and I hope I never find out what he might really have going on down there.