Tasty, flavorful snacks

I ride my bike to work most mornings, and I have a fairly set route that allows me to dodge most traffic heading into downtown. Since I travel this route regularly, and am quite familiar with all the houses, potholes, and dog walkers, I do tend to zone out slightly. However, when I round a corner and see a tall, attractive, naked man leaning over a series of grey plastic trash barrels, it definitely catches my attention.

I slow down slightly and give him a slightly gutteral “morning.” He quickly lifts his head from his task, his bright eyes instantly connecting with mine. “Morning,” he replies with a smile. When I ask what he’s doing, he very casually responds that he’s washing peanuts in order to season them and sell them as snacks.

“Washing… peanuts…” I think to myself. Kinda odd. Only after I myself lean over the trash barrels do I realize what he’s talking about. In each of the three consecutive barrels are hundreds of Styrofoam packing peanuts floating in water.

“Interesting,” I finally say out loud. “Need some help?” I ask, as if it’s the obvious reply in such a situation. I mean, really. Attractive naked man. Washing Styrofoam packing peanuts. What would you do?

As I start helping him dunk, strain, and lay the peanuts out to dry, another cyclist rides up, also asks what we’re doing, and offers to help. He’s cute-ish. Not my type (translation – shorter than 6’2”), but not bad eye candy.

At this point, the entrepreneur states, absent-mindedly, that he needs to apply sunscreen to his legs. Nothing too out of the ordinary about that statement. This is Texas. In June. It’s damn hot. However, the not-totally-cute cyclist offers to help. My ears perk up. I look over and watch him apply sunscreen to hot, naked guy’s calves. To his thighs. To his inner thighs.

At this point I’ve stopped washing the peanuts and start to think, “Hey, haven’t I seen this porn?”

It’s when not-so-cute guy starts to ensure that our studly entrepreneur won’t get sunburned where the sun don’t shine that I drop what I have in my hands and walk over to… help.

The rest… well, I can leave that up to your imagination. All I can say is that with two and one-half months left before I get to see Brit Boy again, I can only imagine that my dreams are gonna get more and more… um… explicit.