Since the weather was at its prime this weekend, I decided to shirk any and all indoor duties and spend most of my time drinking outside with a bunch of my friends. As a result, I never got around to doing any laundry, which was piled high in my closet. While the absence of laundry left me more time to do other things, I realized this morning that I had left myself with little to wear. The khaki pants and button-down shirt could be quickly thrown in the dryer to eliminate wrinkles, and I had one pair of socks left. But the boxers drawer revealed my enemy--"Old Stripey." Old Stripey is a bastard. These boxers are only used as a last resort, very much like you would treat a can of gafilte fish that was mysterious placed in a survival kit after all of the granola bars had been eaten. For whatever reason, I've chosen to keep these terrible boxers. I think it's mostly because I've had to use them maybe 3 or 4 times in the past 8 years and as they lay dormant in the bottom of my drawer, I quickly forget about them. I'm no physicist, but I'm pretty sure that boxers shouldn't be able to completely change their phyiscal properties and morph into something as terrible as they are. It's a true Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation. When you hold them in your hand, they feel like any other cotton boxers. Even when you first pull them up to your waist, they don't reveal their insidious intent--luring you into a false sense of security. So much so, that I actually said to myself, "I don't even remember why I hated these so much. They feel fine today." But once I step far enough away from home to not warrant a quick return trip, they strike. They transform into a sand paper hammock that grabs at my tesicles and twists. I'll just be walking, not doing lunges or anything, and they'll leap from behind my taint to get my sack in a rear naked choke hold, forcing me to stop and inconspicuously reach into my pocket to free myself. This happens frequently throughout the day, and so far I am miserable. Focus: There's one piece of clothing that, for one reason or another, we own and entirely hate. Yet, we keep it. What's yours? Is it a vicious undergarment, or something a little more innocent?
Something Awful had an article about this a while back. I remember this well because every man does indeed have... The Urkel Shirt: http://www.somethingawful.com/d/news/the-urkel-shirt.php I've got a pair of Urkel boxers. They're stuffed in the back of the drawer, only to be found when all my other pairs are in the wash. You know what it's like wearing silk drawers in a Florida summer? You might as well pour a bowl of hot soup down your pants. Also have this old Club Room shirt from at least 10 years ago. It fits perfectly. It's impossible for me to find t-shirts with a tight neck, let alone proper sleeves as well. The thing is covered in bleach stains and took on the texture of chain mail. It's crusty enough to stop a knife attack.
I have a pair of badass biker boots that I stole from my mom and I really wouldn't be surprised if she was wearing them when she met my dad, so yeah they're definitely older than I am. They're super scuffed up and probably should be thrown out, but I'll wear them with anything from skirts and dresses to cutoffs in the middle of summer.
I have a smurf T-Shirt that was given to me by my brother-in-law. It's a bunch of smurfs having a BBQ, doing all sorts of ga .... er smurfy things. We made a bet on this years superbowl, and since I lost I have to wear the fucking thing whenever we go to the same place. You know how a cute puppy is a chick magnet for any hot single girls in the area? Well this smurf T-shirt is a bonafide douche magnet for every cock knocker within a 50 yard radius. My Brother-in-law sits there and laughs his ass off as dickhead after dickhead asks, "So what's with the smurf shirt?" It just gives me more fuel to come up with an even better payback next time he loses a bet.
My wife insists on having my kids make "dad" T-shirts for Father's day with hand prints and really sappy sayings. I usually only wear them once and then hide them in the bottom of the drawer. I hate those fucking things. Not that I don't like when my kids make me stuff. It's usually cool, but I hate those dam Father's day shirts because they are so lame and corny.
When you get home today take a utility knife to the boxers. I've found the only way to get rid of uncomfortable boxers is to destroy them. One article of clothing I don't hate but should certainly get rid of it my old Red Sox hat. This hat has literally been around the world with me. It's swam in three oceans, been to countless countries, saved me from sunburn on numerous occasions and was worn damn near daily from 2003 through 2008. The hat is nasty. Sweat soaked and smelly, and growing some type of moss (which you can kinda see in the photo). I can't get rid of it. I've come close numerous times but when it comes time to physically putting it in the trash bag I just can't bear to do it. So it goes back on the shelf where I keep my hats. Separated of course by enough distance so the moss doesn't move on to a new host.
I once vowed that I would not wash my favorite fishing hoodie for one whole year, I made it 6 months and about 5 trips. On the last trip before I washed the offending sweatshirt, it was cold so I was sleeping in it only to be awoken many times through out the night from 6 months of squid, fish slime and other nasty stuff, not many things make me gag but this did. After washing it I attempted to wear it again only to find the stench had permiated the fabric and I always could smell it just a little, enough to make me nauseous so I can't wear it anymore. Of course once a year I will put it on and always catch that whiff and put it back in the garage, I just can't throw it away.
I have a pair of boxers that I use only in the event an emergency. In fact, I'd rather go commando than wear this fucking thing. However, when you're forced to get down on your hands and knees to get under the desk of some random to get to their computer, sacrifices must be made in order to save your customers from plumber's crack. These particular pair of boxers fit poorly. And by poorly, I mean my dick regularly manages to find itself hanging out of the dickhole. Taking more than two steps in any direction instantly makes me feel like my ass is being cupped by Andre the Giant. Squatting down will result in an immediate vasectomy. I found this out in front of customer. Nothing makes your bullshit-o-meter work faster than feeling your eyes tear up in front of a woman. On one hand, this particular pair of boxers has the liquid absorbency of a dish sponge. There's nothing quite like having swampass from 9 AM until you can peel a pair of underwear off of your pimple-scarred asscheeks at 6 PM on a warm spring day. But don't even think about wearing these things when it's even slightly cold. In addition to letting every frigid breeze caress your suddenly callous-hard nutsack, the boxers themselves gain the consistency of cardboard. So why haven't I simply thrown these fucking things away? It's simple. They're my emergency pair. Tossing them would be like going on a road trip without a spare tire.
I have a first USA T shirt that I got for free because I signed up for a credit card in College. It had a tight neck so it was great ...........13 years ago when I was in school. Now it has holes in it and you can almost see through it but I still wear it to the gym. My wife hates it and I caught her trying to throw it away, I wear it now just to bother her. I still have numerous "Downingtown Varsity Baseball....or 1993 Undefeated Downingtown Whippett- T-shirts from high school that still get love....and they still get hate from my wife.
A Royal Air Force training t-shirt. I was in the air cadets from the age of 15 to 18 (School thing, everyone had to join the cadets at 15) however there were several ongoing issues with uniforms. This resulted in different camouflage being sent with each order, so we looked like a Pantone colour chart of greens and browns when on parade rather than a more uniform camouflaged unit. One of the issues was the t-shirts. I never found out why, frankly I wasn't interested in the details, but there problems with the cadet training t-shirts. Only so many could be ordered and as a result, myself and three other cadets did not receive our t-shirts. The R.A.F. section of the cadets wore a dark blue t-shirt with the school badge, name of the school and, "C.C.F" printed on the upper left breast in white. The replacement shirts sent to myself and the three other cadets in question were Royal Air Force training t-shirts thanks to more ordering difficulties. Rather than take the logical step of saying, "Just wear your games kit shirts for now while we sort this out" we were told to just take the R.A.F. shirts. I don't hate the shirt, I hate the reaction it receives when I adorn it. I live in a town with a large (now out of commission) naval base, a very strong Royal Engineer's presence, an exceptionally large Armed Forces recruitment office and an air field ten minutes away. On those fateful days when I run out of clean laundry, the R.A.F. shirt stares me in the face until I concede and put it on, while desperately thinking of ways to avoid social interaction for the rest of the day. Constant assumptions I am/was in the Royal Air Force, met with confused looks when I answer either no, or very nearly at one point but still, no. The hyena laughs from acquaintances should they see me, followed by the inevitable comments about my laundry situation at home. Finally, my least favourite occurrence while wearing this shirt, Royal Engineer's asking what I'm doing in the area. These shirts were only used officially for a very short time. As far as I know the R.A.F. stick to wearing just a plain white t-shirt should they be exercising... that or the introduction books were very misleading. The most loathsome part is I volunteer at the Dockyard, yet nobody asks me questions about the Dockyard when I wear my R.H.D.C shirt.
Note to self: Think twice before I announce that I have pair of boxers named "old Stripey", when a simple wash in warm water would take care of that problem. FOCUS: Being of a certain age, and weighing nearly as much as Lawrence Taylor did in his prime, my clothes don't fit me nearly as well as they should. Add to that the fact that I don't like to spend money on anything other than food or booze. The result is a pair of khakis that I still insist on wearing to work, even though I have to hold my breath for 8 hours, and they are "wrinkle plus" as opposed to wrinkle free.
Not true, at least for me. I have a pair of boxers that I keep for emergency purposes only. They have more holes than closed off areas. They're probably at least a decade old and the waistband is all stretched out to the point that I have to continually pull them up throughout the day as they slide down below my hips. They're terrible and utterly useless. I would be better off going commando but I just can't bring myself to throw them away. If I was ever inclined to tea bag a friend they would work great since my balls magically appear out of one of the many holes as soon as I start to squad down. My ex girlfriend snuck them out of my drawer and threw them in the garbage one time because they grossed her out so much. When I saw them I dug them out and put them back in my dresser. At this point it's just a challenge to see how long I can get some use out of them.
hrrmm women... my wife is constantly trying to throw t-shirts from my college days away. They're the best fitting, softest, and don't have fucking dragons, 4-leaf clovers, and corona bottles on them. She's either trying to throw them away, "lose them", or convince my mother to nix them while she's babysitting our daughter. I also have to explain to her that you don't have to wash something every time it goes to walmart, lays around the house, or goes out to eat (exceptions include mexican restaurants). Excessive washing puts holes and fades great T's that can't be replaced. It expedites the aging process. Now I think she washes them just to spite me and slowly murder them. So I've taken to hiding them, dirty, under the clean clothes pile and hanging them back up in the closet. Focus: I've got boxers with dozens of holes in them, yet can never get rid of them. The only way that I'm able to part with them is when, inevitably, I'll go to put them on and my big toe will get caught in one of the holes and I'll almost fall over. In a fit of rage, I usually end up tearing them in half, hulk style in an early-morning-getting-ready anger. ... then have to deal with post-rage remorse.
I still have the "Brown Thunders" Issued to me in Basic Training. They are my "Will-- You need to do laundry, NOW" underwear. When I start wearing them, laundry is usually done within the next day or two. Spoiler
All of my clothes are completely disposable. I destroy clothing in my line of work so I don't get too attached. There's my Red Wing work boots that I try to take care of, but that's only because of the ridiculous amount I had to pay for them. If any of my clothes get ripped I toss it. Plus, I write it all off at the end of the year. My favorite clothes are military surplus because they tend to last a little longer. Once upon a time... And now...
Aww, come on! Those things are just now broken in good! Plus, Red Wings are GREAT at withstanding hot brands when you get drunk and decide to write your initials on them:
I've become more ruthless in recent years about throwing clothes out or donating to goodwill. I've only got so much space, and when something gets tossed it makes room for a new shiny. Having said that, my achilles heel is nostalgia. I've got some t-shirts that I can't bring myself to throw away. I never wear them. Ever. Not to bum around in, because they have old t-shirt smell. Not to do dirty jobs because they would get (more) messed up. Not even to work out - I prefer tank tops for better mobility and ventilation. But I got them in college, so it is quite possible they'll be used to line my casket. Then there's the jeans jacket I got when I was a high school freshman. I initially bought it because the guy I had a crush on had one like it. I ended up loving that jacket far more than the crush. It was probably the coolest thing I ever owned. It's been 23 years and I still have it. I never wear it because it is horribly dated and not in the cool retro sort of way. But that jacket was a good friend to me and I won't treat it badly by throwing it out.
Funny this should come up as I am actually wearing my last resort boxers today. They aren't as bad as some of the pairs I've finally thrown out of the past few months, but they do have their drawbacks. Mainly the waste band has come completely unsown around most of the waste so that the elastic band will flip up constantly throughout the day. Also the bottom part of the dick hole has come unsown so that I flop out constantly which is way more uncomfortable that I would have ever thought. The worst part is that since its Cinco de Mayo today I will probably be going and getting drunk right after work and will not be doing laundry. The only thing worse than having to wear your dreaded backup boxers, is having to wear them twice in a row. I also have a couple shirts that I have had for over 10 years that I still insist on wearing when I'm just laying about the house. I have also gained a fair amount of weight in those 10 years, mostly as a beer belly. So I lay around the house in these old t-shirts that are damn near see through, and my roommate always gives me shit about them because they are so stretched around my belly that you can plainly see the indentation of my belly button.
Why do we do this? I mean, of course I've got the shitty pair of shit boxers that are stuffed into the back of the drawer, but why? Why can't people just take a pair of boxers that are comfortable, and shove those into the back of the drawer for those "haven't done laundry in three weeks" emergencies? Then just buy one more fucking pair of boxers. I do it too but it makes no damn sense. There are some t-shirts that you never want to throw away though. I have two UCLA tees from when my uncle went there. In 1977. He wore them, gave them to my dad, and my dad gave them to me when I was a kid. They are the thinnest t-shirts ever and one of them is translucent and bordering on fucking transparent. It's made up of more holes than thread. I don't wear them anymore but I sure as shit won't throw them away. I used to do all my clothes shopping at the salvation army so I've got tons of shitty clothes filling up my dresser. Yes I wore old man pants in high school. Yes it was ironic, fuck you.
To get the worn look, which is what the NFL is hocking this year, the shirts are two or three times more expensive. Fuck that, I got this bad boy new and just wore it till it looks like moths were eating it. Spoiler It's so worn it feels like no other shirt I own. I will not retire it until the Bills win a Super Bowl, or be buried in it. Whichever comes first (more likely the latter). This shirt has seen: -Two winning season. -The Music City Miracle. -Numerous Bills games down here at Pro Player stadium. -Bills training camp in Pittsford, NY. -Alex Van Pelt, Rob Johnson, Doug Flutie, Drew Bledsoe, Kelly Holcombe, J.P. Losman, Trent Edwards, Ryan Fitzpatrick, and Brian Brohm among others at QB. -Wade Phillips, Gregg Williams, Mike Mularkey, Dick Jauron, Perry Fewell and now Chan Gailey coaching the team. -Is autographed on the back by the Buffalo Bills equipment staff. -A divorce. -15 residences I've lived in (maybe one or two more). -College.