Greg and just about laughed until our pants were soiled…I’m not even sure what it was all about. I’m just pretty sure it involved some childish humor, lampshades, and pork.
I’ll make this short: Funny story (at least I think so). Last night I went swimming at some people’s house. I didn’t have swimtrunks so I borrowed a pair from a dude who sports the same pants size as Gary Coleman. It didn’t help that the trunks were made out of some mighty clingy material, either. Every time I got out of the pool modesty forced me to wrench the front of the trunks away from my delicates because the sheer vacuum pack action of those insidious aqua-drawers left little of my frontside to the imagination. The last time I got out of the pool a couple girls were looking at me. As I lowered my head, some strange force compelled me to say,
“Whoa, it’s like a Jimmy Dean packing factory in there.”
Awkward stares ensued.
