Foiled again!!!
Carrying his armload of stolen goods the thief sprints for the getaway vehicle - when suddenly the jeans slide down the shiny backside of the would-be-shoplifter.
You stumble and fall.
I laugh at the video of your lily-white tushy on aol's homepage.
It's a sight that soothes my soul and proves to me that God has a sence of humor and ironic timing. And gravity punks the punk... now!
You drop your armload of whatevers in favor of skinning your palms and hastily yanking up your droopy drawers and screaming at your buddy to hit the gas.
What did you get from this? Nothing.
Because you were foiled again... By fashion.
Mmmm. Good stuff.
Because I hate your saggy pants.
I don't want to see your plaid boxers, or find out that you are going comando today.
I wish I had a bucket of spackle to fill in that crack.
But instead I settle for the satisfaction of knowing that you can't run with the same bowl-legged walk you use to hold your britches around your knees. Can't do it.
Some crime-boss are you.
(If you hate baggy bottoms, google the 'devolution of the trouser.')
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