You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here

You know, when you rip your pants, it’s really just a passive-aggressive way of your clothing telling you that it would like a divorce. If my pants could have talked today in the car, they would have said, “I think we should be worn on other people.” So here I am, left with the shreds of a former relationship. I thought we went together well, we went everywhere together–who saw this coming? We matched, never clashed. And now I have to go through the trouble of looking for another pair of pants, trying to look cool, making sure that I want to spend time in them.I think I’ll go for a run.

Tags: pants, race for less, rip, Stupid Things I do

This entry was posted on Friday, April 30th, 2004 at 5:02 pm and is filed under random whine. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.