Blue Jean Blues

I can pretty much wear blue jeans to work any day of the week. We don't have "causal Friday", we have causal everyday. This applies to our department mostly, but a few others as well. The rest of the company wear the usual capitalist exploiter attire, with their fancy capitalist pig shoes, dress pants, tucked in shirts and even sometimes neckties (an example of super-evil capitalist accoutrements).

According to my buddy Franc, these capitalist cowards are cheating us workers out of our full due for our labor. Using Franc's formula I calculate that capitalism is costing me $82.52 an hour in lost wages that are rightfully mine, and I've only been working at the 17 year old business about a year! Capitalist bastards!

But on to my pants, which is what this post is really about and what I know you really want to read.

I have a favorite pair of jeans that I purchased from the Poor Person's Retail Paradise, also known as Wal-Mart. These jeans have served me well through many weeks and many washes, faithfully covering my natural nakedness and thereby permitting me to earn a living.

Recently though, I experienced the falling keys syndrome. This happens when your keys enter your pocket and then slide down your hairy leg to the ground, whereupon a puzzled expression crosses your face and you repeat the steps several more times before discovering a gaping hole in your right jeans pocket.

The solution was obvious, a sewing kit! But mere thread is no match for sharp metal lock-openers, and this band-aid approach proved a complete failure when the keys won the contest three sewings in a row.

So I put a patch in the pocket instead. It held and my faithful jeans were back in service! Who says $8.00 pants aren't a good buy?

Well, the other day, when I got up during work to use the bathroom (alright, restroom), I noticed as I walked down the hall that my fly was unzipped. Easily corrected, I thought, as my fingers discreetly grabbed the zipper tab and pulled. I quickly realized that the zipper on my barely broken in blue jeans was broken.

For the rest of the day I was glad I wasn't a part of the tucked-in shirt capitalist class, but could instead proudly wear my socialist workers shirt untucked, letting it cover an otherwise open embarrassment.