Two nights ago, Annie and I decide to go to dinner. We stroll along, a rather long way, only to stop in Gap. I decide to try on a pair of jeans. Off I go to those lovely dressing rooms that make you feel like you wear a size 2 and are a beanpole (or not.)
I go to unbutton my jeans and un-zipper and what do you know? The zipper's been down the entire jaunt around Washington DC. That's right, more people than I wish to think about possibly saw my lovely Christmasy undies.
To make matters worse, apparently I forget to zip them back up when I put them back on because I go to go to the bathroom before heading home and what do you know? I didn't have to make the extra effort to pull down the zipper.
I figure at this point, I should just start wearing some seriously exciting undies, because clearly my head's so far up my butt that I'm never going to remember to zip the ol' jeans up.
Who needs a zipper anyway???
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