The South Rises Again

It has happened again.

Perhaps you recall an earlier blog recounting my trip to St. Louis, MO and the terrible pants malfunction that caused me to moon half of St. Louis. What really stinks about that story is that I had just bought those pants, and, in my opinion, pants should last until I am too fat to wear them anymore. I actually bought two pairs of jeans on that particular shopping excursion, which will become an important fact later in this story.

My Mom's birthday is very conveniently located in January. This is convenient in the sense that it's about $300 cheaper to fly in the middle of January then it is to fly home for Christmas. ('Cause seriously, who wants to visit the Midwest in the dead of winter?) Also, Christmas of '06 happened to occur in the middle of a freaking blizzard here in Denver. And nothing says, "merry Christmas" like sleeping in a chair at DIA. So the birthday trip was all around a wonderful idea.

Apparently my butt did not concur. The very thought of a trip to St. Louis caused my bottom to fly into a frenzy and start to chew its way out of my pants. The night before I left for home, I bent down to pick up my mail and once again, the entire right back pocket of my jeans ripped away exposing a 5 inch gash of ass. This would be a good time to point out that these were the very same pants bought with the other malfunctioning pants. Can anyone say "design flaw"?????

I cannot believe it! It happened AGAIN!!! Is there something fundamentally wrong with St. Louis that causes the structural integrity of my pants to be compromised???? What is up with disintegrating jeans?? I mean come on, all I want here is a little security in the knowlege that my butt will remain covered at all times. Is dependable denim too much to ask for?

I blame global warming.