I had to buy the plebian underpants
Yeah. I know. Where the hell would I be without womens' magazines telling me when my underpants are expired?
Not the point. The point is... I paid like $18 a pair for those underpants and they were cute, damnit. So when they got all snaggly and such half-lifed, I found myself to be in a position of having to replace my underpants. Only, I don't want to spend $18 on underpants any more. Well, I do. I want $18 underpants. I want their soft softness to caress my tushy as I get anally raped by various individuals throughout the course of my day. But I'm married and in school now, and while $18 underpants would be yummy, they're a bit out of my price range.
So I *gulp* marched myself towards my doom down the center aisle of Walmart, into the socks and underpants section and belabored picking out a pack of Hanes slouch socks that I felt would keep my ankles moderately warm when I'm outside jogging so slowly a slug could pass me by in the thin disparagingly cold air and slipping on the un-shoveled walks in the dead of winter. Warm ankles are important in these circumstances. Especially when you're ass is freezing cold from slapping the pavement at 43 mph (terminal velocity for an ass dropping from ass-height to the ground in the middle of winter as my legs fly out from under me).
Ahh yes, my ass.
And instead of being caressed by the $18 underpants, they will henceforth be cushioned three days a week by cotton tighty whities (actually I bought the cute pinky ones, which cost me like a whole extra buck--bastards) from the nice people at Hanes who make afordable underpants for the masses and their cold asses.
I hope they're soft. Like jersey sheets are. They're not silk sheets, but they're their own type of squishy. And then I can pretend they're $18 underpants.
I miss my elitist underwear already!