I own 32 pairs of underwear. That means that I can go 32 days without doing laundry, unless I take part in any physical activities that require an undies change. Soccer season is over, however, and I've reverted back to being a lazy sonuvabitch that sits in front of a screen doing his best to earn miniscule paychecks, so I'm pretty much working on the one pair per day method. As I've mentioned more times than anyone gives a damn about on this website, I'm busy. Sometimes too busy to do laundry. In the past, my extensive underwear selection has insured that I'd be able to continue wearing the best of my best boxer shorts without running out and taking to the reserves. The reserves, my friends, are the old pairs of boxers that should've been retired years ago. Some have holes in completely ridiculous places while others offer absolutely nothing in the form of waist elasticity, which means that unless they're pulled over my pants and clamped with a belt, they will fall down way farther than is comfortable. While never preferred, at least the reserves offer me the security that I need to get my ass to the laundra-mat. Apparently I've become too busy to do even that, however, because ther reserves are completely gone. That includes the waist-band-less pair that I bought in 8th grade as well as the infamous "Marc Noll's Bar Mitzvah" pair that don't quite keep the boys under control, if you know what I mean.

That's it. I'm out. Done. And you know what? I have no time to get the laundra-mat this afternoon, either. So folks, if you see me walking down the street today and decide to talk to me... do it knowing that you're talking to a kid who is most definitely wearing yesterday' underwear.

My mom would not be proud. --