Friday, August 29, 2008


I admit it.

I'm totally guilty...

I'm a killer... and an abuser...

I use and abuse, that's what I do.

The sad thing is that my victims never have a choice in the matter. They don't know what's happening... they don't have a voice...

I pick them, I use them and then I get rid of them.

Wow, I sound really sick don't I?

My victims are most commonly known as "blue jeans"

Here's the deal. I love jeans... however, I never find good ones. I did find some this weekend though. I decided it was time to finally kill off get rid of my trusty rusty old ones.

I found them at the beginning of summer 2006... and have been wearing them constantly since.

I did give them a break for the winters because they are actually shorter, like capris, but as for summer, they're as close to long pants as I'll go.

Finally this summer, they were wearing so thin that I just knew one more tug on the leg to pull them up when I sat down would be the end of them.

And it happened...

I pulled one too many times and POP there was a huge hole.

I was sad for a few days... but then talked myself into still wearing them since "holey" jeans are actually cool.

Well after the next 3 holes I wasn't exactly whistling the same tune.

This particular pair of jeans was much more loyal to me than any of my more recent victims pairs.

Anyways, they are finally being disposed of. It's a sad day, but I'm glad that I have a replacement... I mean, it wouldn't be right to move on to a new victim pair when I still have my old one in tow.

Here is a scary sight that I found as I photographed them last night. For documentation purposes of course... just in case someone tries to accuse me of something... err i mean jean abuse.

They would have all the evidence they need.

Maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

Do you see the little man in there? Look closely... there is a head and he's crossing his arms and then he has very long legs...

Well in case you don't see it, I made it a little more obvious for you.

Yah, if that's not weird, I don't know what is.

And what's weirder, is that I actually noticed it. (that's not entirely true, my mom pointed it out and then I found it)

I think the most exciting part about these jeans biting the dust is the fact that the crotch wasn't the first thing to wear out.

I know, I know, that sounds so nasty, but when you're not supermodel skinny, your legs rub together when you walk wearing the fabric thin. Don't tell me you've never fallen victim to your "notsoloyal" jeans doing this to you.

The hole there in the crotch isn't even from wear! it's just a tear in the ACTUAL seam!

Ok, enough about jean murdering.

I need to get to business... these jeans have to go, err i mean die.


6 extraordinary comments:

Susan August 30, 2008 at 12:36 AM  

I totally saw the guy before I scrolled down and saw your drawing. So funny.
I mourn the loss of good jeans!

Mamasphere August 31, 2008 at 2:16 PM  

Yep, the crotch is always the first thing to go in my pants. Not a whole lot you can do with pants that have a giant hole ripped in the crotch than move on to a new pair. Such a shame.

Elaine A. September 1, 2008 at 9:43 PM  

It is a sad day when you have to get rid of your fav pair. The fact that your mother saw a man in there totally cracks me up! She must have fun with clouds, huh? : )

Jyl @ MommyGossip September 2, 2008 at 2:17 PM  

My husband, who can't even tell you the color of the guy's hair who shares an office with him, one day says to me: "You have got to get some new jeans." I had fallen in so tight with a pair of jeans, that I couldn't bear to part with them, even when the hole right at the bottom of my left booty bum cheek--as Chatter Box calls it--got too big and people were feeling a little uncomfortable around me.

Now, you know it is bad when your fashion sense-less hubbie tells you to go and get another pair. Hee Hee!

Alistar September 2, 2008 at 9:39 PM  

Ha ha there's a man in ur pants! lol. That being said, i have only worn out one pair of jeans, but it wasn't between my massive thighs it was just below my pockets in the back. Two slits that part as you walk. If I was a booty call, they would be perfect. But.... IM NOT. So they had to be passed down to someone that WAS.

Alistar September 2, 2008 at 9:42 PM  

Ps... your writing was pretty ingenious here : )

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