Thursday, May 19, 2011

Damn Pants

I must be fat as hell. How else can you explain the fear my pants have of my giant ass? They run from their seams screaming at the first squatting glance of my impending anus. Granted if I were the seat of my pants I'd be pretty pissed about being constantly scratched and farted in. But that is the job of pants, so get the job done! Boom. But these damned pants I've been hanging out in are cowards. Cowards! Can't handle a few squat lifts? Wuss. I mean all I ask is that I can walk around and do normal work related activities without having to worry about my pants shredding themselves apart at the shear thought of bending over.

Okay, so I guess you may have figured I'm having some pants trouble. Four pairs of pants in three years at my current job have split right up the ass seam. All of them at work. Three of them were small and unnoticeable, the fourth pair (and first) is its own dreadful little story.

You see children, I'd only been at the job for a few months. I was also the only man in the office so, naturally, I got plenty of hazing. So a few people were at lunch one day. It was me and a supervisor manning the place. I squatted down to pick up a rather heavy item. I knew as soon as I heard the rip. Unlike the other three rips, this one was huge. I mean from balls to belt loop. Any other normal man would have went to his supervisor and explained. But as you all know, I'm no mere mortal man. In my panic and frenzy to avoid anyone seeing the incident I carefully stole a stapler and moved to the mens room. In the restroom I pulled down my pants and attempted to staple the pants shut at the inside seam. I pulled myself together and remembered I only had twenty minutes until lunch break. So I walked back to my station, moved a chair to block my rear side and worked.

Twenty infinie minutes later I dashed out to my car and got in. The staples didn't hold when I sat down. They ripped apart, some flew right into my ass. Sure. So I drove to Wal Mart because being new to the job I only had the one pair of pants. As with all my great stories my final embarrassment ended at the Mart where I had to get out of my car and march into the store with my underwear clearly visible to all. I bought new damned pants; that would split in a few short months. Does this shit happen to everyone or is it just me?

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