Next Time My A$$ Is Showing, Let Me Know

Have you ever had a wardrobe malfunction? I'm betting you did, you just may not want to talk about it.

So I have a certain pair of camouflage pants that I like to work in. With the environment out at Nightmare, I'm always covered with dirt, getting stuck with nails, and carrying scorpions home in my pocket. I wear these pants so frequently that one of the crew actually asked me a couple of weeks ago how long I've had the pants.

These are also the pants I wear for my early morning shopping at the grocery store, the hardware store, and if I have to run an errand. My pants have been mended, patched, and sewed back together a number of times by my lovely wife.

This past weekend I was kicking around town dowing my regular business and one of my stops was to go let a neighbors dog out. In the middle of some serious fetch, I noticed a serious breeze on my (chiseled from fine marble, lilly-white) ass-checks. I reached back and there was a hole in my pants big enough to put my whole hand through.

After my discovery, I realized I had been to yes, the grocery store, the hardware store, Nightmare, and Chrissy's house. Even worse, the day before it was a little cooler so I was wearing long-underwear so it's possible I was running around all day with my drawers showing then too, even though I couldn't feel the breeze.

So the end of the story is, there's NO WAY that I wasn't running around with ass out, and maybe next time, you could tap me on the shoulder or throw a Coke can at me or something and let me know. Do me that one little square, okay?

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