Sometimes I wear embarrassing underwear.
Each time I do, I’m gambling that no women are going to jump out of nowhere and tear my pants off, or that I’m not going to be in one of those multiple-hostage bank robberies where during the heist the bank robbers make everyone take their pants off.
I saw that in a movie once, so now I’m pretty sure all bank robberies involve hostages being forced to remove their pants.
I do not wear women’s underwear. I hope you weren’t thinking that. But I do sometimes neglect my laundry long enough where I get through all of my respectable boxers. And what’s left?
Novelty boxers that my mom enjoys sending me around the holidays for reasons I don’t understand.
M&Ms. The Bumble from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Nintendo Wii. SpongeBob SquarePants. Valentine’s Day-themed boxers with hearts all over them.
I have one pair of M&M boxers that say “Bring on the Chocolate” across the ass.
Those embarrass me the most. I don’t know why.
Sometimes I have a bunch of clean clothes folded in the laundry basket two floors away from me. The choice: Walk down to get some normal boxers? OR. Wear these random silk boxers with hearts all over them?
I always ask myself two questions:
1. Is a woman likely to take my pants off today? Yeah, probably not. Okay. These should work.
2. But wait!!! Am I going to a bank where I’m almost certainly going to be taken hostage along with 15 other people and be forced to take my pants off and just stand there while all the bank robbers, employees and other customers laugh at me??? Probably not! But I better run downstairs and get some regular ones just to be safe. If I don’t? I know I’m gambling. Someone might see!
The girl thing is totally scary.
Just imagine it.
Eyes locked. Fingers and lips touch. Just the right amount of teeth and tongue. This is totally going to happen.
Hearts racing. Bodies pulsing. Both people breathless as they lose themselves.
A shirt flies off here.
A bra flies off there.
And then—whoosh!—pants off.
<insert vinyl record screech noise here>
And then she sees your SpongeBob SquarePants Christmas boxers.
Then she pulls out her phone and snaps a photo of you trying to hide your underwear and your erection.
Then she runs out of your house laughing hysterically.
Then she posts the photo on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram and tags you in all of them and everyone laughs at you for the rest of your life because you wear SpongeBob SquarePants Christmas boxers EVERY DAY, apparently, and now no one will ever want you.
They’re all gonna laugh at you!
That could totally happen.
Which is why my boxers are a very respectable solid-color blue right now.
Whew. It’s probably gonna be a good day.
I dream up random crap all the time and then worry about it.
It’s really useful for things like protecting my little son from danger and driving safely.
But it’s mostly pretty debilitating like that one time when a few people in the United States contracted Ebola and I worried about a pandemic happening.
I used to think I was the only person that did this, but now I know even without asking that most people probably do it because we’re really not so different once you strip away all the stuff that doesn’t matter.
What Do You Mean You Don’t Have Attack Pants!?!?
My stepsister, who I don’t like calling “stepsister” because she’s family, had just picked up her and her husband’s bedroom.
As they were getting ready for bed, she noticed he’d set out a pair of pants in a spot she had JUST picked up.
“What the hell? I just put those pants away,” she said.
“Yeah, but I need these here,” he said. “Just in case.”
(I’m totally making up this dialogue, by the way, but the spirit of the conversation is absolutely accurate.)
“Just in case… of what?” she asked him.
“Just in case bad guys break into our house and attack us.”
She stood there looking at him.
“You mean, if bad guys break into the house, you want to have pants on hand to put on real quick before you fight them off? These pants—they’re your ‘Attack Pants’?”
And then they both just stood there laughing.
The next day, she asked me if I had Attack Pants. I don’t need specific Attack Pants, because I always have a couple pairs (pants too clean for laundry, but too dirty to be folded and put away) around and ready to throw on in an emergency.
I never thought about them in the sense of needing pants during middle-of-the-night combat. BUT. I have absolutely considered the possibility of fire.
Smokey. Frightening. Smoke detectors going off. Maybe my son would be there. He’s my only real priority. And maybe the fire is hot and raging. And maybe there’s no way to get downstairs and out the door safely. Maybe jumping out the window is the only way.
And maybe there’s no time to put on pants.
Maybe the entire neighborhood will gather outside and watch my house burn down. Maybe newspaper photographers will be there.
And I’d be standing there. Probably during winter so my penis would look smaller.
But no one would really care, because they’d be too distracted by my M&M boxers. Bring on the chocolate!
“Why does his underwear say that?” all my neighbors and the firefighters and the media would be wondering.
And then everyone would post the photos to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram and tag me in them and everyone would laugh at me for the rest of my life because I apparently wear silly M&M boxers with writing on the ass EVERY DAY, and now no one will ever want me.
They’re all gonna laugh at you!
That could totally happen.
Do any of you guys keep Attack Pants handy? Does anyone else wear bad underwear sometimes and worry about anyone seeing it? Do you also worry about really bizarre, arbitrary things that are highly unlikely to happen to anyone, ever?