The unmistakable signs of spring has begun it's showy annual parade. Everything's blossoming up, providing large swaths of color all around the Infidel homestead. Perky daffodils, the shade of effervescent sunshine, dazzle all those who pass. The chirping of spring's official harbinger, the magnificent red-boobied robin, echoes through the lushly green and scenic landscapes. A steady rise in temperature means the ever abundant Houston hoochy mamas can finally exchange their sensible warm clothing for the more skankarific staples in their closet. Those poor Daisy Dukes and matching sparkly tube tops really suffered through a long dormant winter season. Like the famed rodent, Puxatawny Phil, sticking his head out of the ground to signal the impending arrival of spring, we Houstonites look towards the first sighting of the cagey half-naked woman strutting around the jungles of Wal-Mart, her natural habitat.
This week, the biggest, grandest, whiffiest, most tell-tale sign of spring reared up from the rear. My rear, to be exact. Yes, when the heat is on, I sweat. A lot. The time has drawn nigh to break out ye olde butt towel to line my truck seat with. Oh, glorious butt towel.........Master of super butt sweat absorbency and long faithful servant to The Smiling Infidel. May you live to fight and soak up butt puddles for many years to come. You know that song that goes, "Flowers in her hair, flowers everywheeeerre?" We sing it, "Butt sweat in her chair, butt sweat everywheeeeerrre!" At no point does our version mention anything about anybody loving "The Butt Sweat Girl," though. Oh, que triste. So, here's to you, my beloved butt towel, for all that you do, and the sweat that you stop from seeping through. I salute you! Woo Hoooo!