bedlam wrote:foghorn wrote:What are the various criteria for a watch to be called a "Bad Boy" ? ("wear that bad boy in good health")
I assume it denotes/promotes the watch as having some form of excess.... really big, really expensive, really ugly, or just really Invicta
:lhhu:
Interestingly, Eyal and I were speaking of this just the other day!
As usual, when passing through the Pacific Northwest on his way from Florida to his Chine--err,
Swiss factories, Eyal likes to stop over in Seattle to rest before his very long trans-Pacific flight to Zurich. He often calls me and we hang out, watch buds that we are, for a few hours while the Subaqua Noma I is being refueled and, when Mongo Kid is traveling with him, the latrine cleaned at Boeing Field.
As luck would have it, last week Eyal and MD and I met for dinner at the Flying Boots Cafe in Tacoma, a real dive, but it had the advantage (in Eyal's eyes, at least) of serving the finest baked beans in Washington. As we indulged in the Flying Boot's cuisine, Mongo Kid, as usual along for the ride, sat off to the side, glowering at indigents, looking like a grown-up-and-gone-horrendously-to-seed Spanky McFarland.
"What are you wearing today, John?" Eyal said. I said I was wearing my Sumo.
"Too fucking small," Turdling said, then urpped a quart of Jim Beam down the front of his polyester shirt.
"Shut the fuck up, Turdling," Eyal said, pretty sharp. "Go find me some meteorite, you fucking dipsomanic."
"It's fucking
Tacoma, El Supremo. Where's there gonna be meteorite around here?"
"Go walk around the block a couple of hundred times," Eyal growled. "Go do some fucking thing."
"OK, boss," Turdling said, getting unsteadily to his feet, swaying alarmingly. Then, to me, he said, "Wear that bad boy proud." He shuffled across the bar, then slipped and fell heavily, squashing a small French poodle helper-dog. Luckily, the dog's hapless owner, an elderly lady with a fin-de-siecle dress and a pearl choker, was passed out at the bar.
"Where does that term originate, Eyal?" I asked, as we watched Turdling get to his feet and peel the helper-poodle from the ample seat of his pants.
"Actually, Turdling came up with it," Eyal said. Eyal had a very large plate of baked beans in front of him, and scooped some of them into his mouth with his hands. "It came from his days in the joint."
"Really?"
"Yeah. When we hired him, we decided to use his distended rectum as a gauge on how large to build our watches. I know that sounds a little strange, but Grandmama seemed to like the idea, and, well, fuck, she signs the checks, right?"
"Sure."
"Well, when he first came out of the Ohio pen, we could have built wristwatches the size of Big Ben. I mean, really, he used to defrost legs of lamb up there. But as he got rehabilitated, his butthole shrunk and now it's only about 65mm across. It still makes it impossible for him to wear white pants, but he can live with it."
"So this is why you only make watches up to 65mm?" I said.
"Yeah. When we get a new prototype in from Beijin--I mean the Swiss Jura, I send for Turdling. We tell him, 'Okay, Mikey, stoop for the troops!' and he grabs his ankles, and I have my gardener, Paco, stick the watch up his ass. If it goes in dry without a peep from him, it goes into production. If he squeals like hell, I figure it's too big. It's a interesting way to gauge size, but it's not failed me yet."
"But what about the 'Bad Boy' thing? Where does that come from?"
"That's from his cellie, Bad Boy Horvath, the boss of the Aryan Brotherhood in the joint. Turdling was his bitch, and of course, to pay his way, Turdling had to offer up his cherry bunghole. Now, for a white boy, Horvath was pretty well endowed, and Turdling, being a virile young buck, got stretched out pretty good."
After this interesting and entertaining anecdote, we supped on polar bear liver pate on small Swiss rolls, and then Eyal and MD jetted off for Hong Kon--Basel.
Anyway, foggy, I hope this answers your question.
2025 3flushes Media.^^^