The Tower of Babel in my Pants

I'm standing in the cabana at the LA Fitness club at Jefferson and Lincoln.

It's a beautiful sunny day.

I've had a productive morning at home and an assignment that will earn me a few more day rates.

I'm also cursing to myself about the crowd in the pool, including my nemesis, some old crazy cat lady that likes to take up an entire lane with her useless snorkeling and then hog the shower so she can condition her ugly grey hair with 13 different kinds of oils and lotions.

After she "exercises" she goes back to her car and chain smokes an entire box of Marlboro's. Marlboro Light, because you know she's health conscious.

Anyway, as I'm standing in the cabana, buck naked, and about to pull up my swim trunks I notice the instructions for the proper Care and Maintenance of my Quiksilver trunks. That's when I break out my iPhone and without a tripod (insert joke here) I snap the photo above.

I don't know if you can tell, but that's SEVEN tiny pages detailing the materials used to fabricate the bathing suit as well as a United Nations treatise outlining the correct way to wash said garment, that, it should be pointed out, was made for the express purpose of going in and out of a pool of highly-chlorinated water and old lady urine.

I'm not sure what type of dim wit needs these Ulysses-ian cleaning instructions, but rest assured if he speaks English, German, Spanish, French, Mandarin Chinese or Tagolog, the good folks at Quiksilver have got him covered.

Also, I checked just for good measure, and on the back of the last tag I found the blueprint for a modern nuclear bomb.

It was written in Farsi.