Why do I, every day, say to myself when picking out my undies for the day, “You’d better save those good ones. Don’t wanna waste them on work [or fill in the blank with some other random boring or sex-less activity].”
Look, no one other than some rando in a store dressing room has seen my undies for months. But still, no matter what I do or where I’m going, I say to myself, “Gotta save the good underwear.”
The other night I went to a friend’s house to hang with some lady friends, eat mexican food, and watch the last Twilight movie (don’t judge). That’s it. I’m 100% heterosexual and these ladies are all 100% heterosexual, so there was no way that any funny business was going to happen with any of them. So as I was getting dressed, I said to myself, “Gotta save the good undies.”
THEN I said to myself, “What the fuck for?” Seriously, why did I buy these cute undies if I was never going to wear them? Well, to be fair, I went out and bought a slew of new cute undies six months ago with a specific “undie looker” in mind (there is a half-written blog entry about this particular situation, however, I’m still too mad to finish it). Obviously that didn’t work out, BUT who CARES if I’m not getting any (I’m not bitter. Motherfucker. No…I’M NOT BITTER). That doesn’t mean I have to cruise around in the goddamn cotton grandma pants. Fuck it, man. I’m no longer going to be a slave to practicality. I’m wearing the cute undies with the ruffles on the front.