So the long and short of it is this - I'm squating down at work, rubbing my lower back out of numbness - and RRRRRIIIIIPPPPP!!!!! - the back of my jeans rip open, right around the area of my left cheek pocket (that's the pocket that holds both my wallet and my little phonebook). And then like some quasi/pseudo/flashback/fever dream/nightmare/horror show/snuff film I have these three little Teutonic, Aryan, Pride-Of-Norway, Village of The Damned children pointing at me and chanting in their evil kindergarten voices: "You ripped your pa-ANTS!! You ripped you pa-ANTS!!"
I only spent ten minutes hiding in the bathroom. Long enough for the vile hellbeast that spawned those brats to take them to some other store, to torture the sales associates there. I think those kids 'caused' my jeans to rip. Evolution jumps forward. Years from now, after they take over and we're all working in the mines, don't say I didn't warn you.
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1 comment:
Wow, you really made an ASS of yourself. HA!
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