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So there I was, in the parking lot of Staples, bending over to shove my purchases into the back of my faithful Nissan, when it happened.

The ripping sound. The jagged tear of denim. The sudden sense of my hind end being rather better ventilated than before.

The sensation was both horrifying and immediately familiar, despite the fact that I've only had it happen a few times in my life.  The seat of my pants had just ripped.

"Son of a bitch," I thought, groping frantically behind me, and discovering a truly spectacular tear. The jeans hadn't just ripped, they'd practically committed suicide. "I just bought these two months ago, they're not even tight, goddamn shoddy craftsmansh--"

A second, rather more desperate thought intruded, as my brain brought it to my attention that I was, in fact, wearing thong underwear.* For a minute, all I could think of was the Calvin and Hobbes where Calvin tears his pants and thinks "Of all the days to wear the underwear with the little rocket ships on them..." This was cathartic, but not particular helpful.

Well, life is full of these little crises. I straightened up. I turned. I carefully did not look to see if anyone had seen me, because damnit, there are things I don't want to know. I set my back to the car and inched around it, opened the door and wedged myself backwards into the driver's seat. I had other errands to run, but suddenly they didn't seem all that important.

Into every life, a little rain must fall...

*Don't knock it, it's rather surprisingly comfortable.

Really, I'm sympathetic. This sarcastic tone is just a speech impediment.

Thank you. I had a slightly disappointing day, and I needed a smile.

I had my pants similarly self-destruct in the middle of work; better yet, I commute via bus to work. Fortunately, my wife was able to run over with another pair of pants, but I definitely had visions of having to beg coworkers for a ride to the nearest clothing store.

Into every life, a little rain must fall...

...and a little breeze must blow.

So why do I now have this vision of a female skunk in jeans with the same circumstances as really both humorous... and horrifying?

Ya know I really can't say much about that. I've had Pj's shread on me before but luckly I was wearing those rocket ship boxers.

Let there be wind where there has never been wind before.

I would like to point out that you are coping remarkably well with mooning a parking lot for someone who recently had a breakdown. :) Seems the Effexor is doing you some good, there.

I ripped the seat out of an old (loose!) pair of gi pants during warmup one evening ... unseamed from nave to chops, as it were. I've never been so grateful to be wearing a hakama ...

Ooooh me too... without the hakama (alas, only a blue belt - no pretty swish for me.) My gi pants are now more stitches than fabric... I'm currently hemming the new ones.

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I was involved in a show once where that happened--to the character playing the future Queen Mary of England. It was a dance, and her skirt just dropped off completely. (She coped rather well, I thought.)

My favorite pair of jeans...

In the middle of a(n adult) con, all through the crotch. I was going commando at the time.

...No, it was not on purpose.

Thongs are comfy! Finally, someone who understands! ;D

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This is why I am grateful that I normally wear t-shirts that are a little longer than Britney-length dresses.

The one on Kildaire and Cary Parkway? 'Cause I was there at around 11 this morning.

This is what's known as Arse Gratia Artis?

I'm told that in comedy, timing is everything. Though they never mentioned wearing thongs as well.

I find them comfortable (thongs, not comedy), but it seems to be one of those things that *cough*divides people.


That's why it's important to always carry duct tape with you in the car.

Very effective for all kinds of patches.

I am now imagining duct taped pants butt. Oh dear.

I was just thinking of carrying a flannel shirt. Wrap it around your waste, insta "Blossom" 90s look