I see Britain, I see France
So my friend was over the other day when I was folding my laundry, and she saw my happy face boxers (you know, bright yellow with the smiley guy on 'em), whereupon the conversation went like this:
"What the hell are those?"
"My happy face boxers! Haha, aren't they absolutely SWEET!"
"What are you, 12? No grown man wants to wear happy face boxers - do you actually wear those on dates?"
"Well, they're more for workdays - you'll be all depressed and then think to yourself - Dude, I've got the happy face boxers on! MONSTROUS OWNAGE!!!"
"More like monstrously stupid!"
So am I crazy, or is she crazy? Well, I don't actually need the answer to that - she's just jealous 'cause they probably don't have happy face girly underwear. Nor beer bottle undies either, which is the other pair I wear when I'm thinkin' I'll need a pick-me-up later.
So let's do a poll, so I can scientifically refute any further claims that happy face boxers aren't the bee's knees:
Option A: Yes, I have goofy underwear of some kind. In fact, I have a pair of ____________
Option B: No, I live in the no-fun zone. Sometimes I cut myself to see the black, bilious blood pump from my cold, dead heart, and then I sigh, and put on black jeans over my glum black gaunch.
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Better educated sadness than oblivious joy.
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