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I wore these kinda old drawstring pants to school and work today. Apparently, the forecast called for a massive downpour of rain, which would've been bad. Why? I was going commando.

By some strange form of luck, I averted getting soaked in the turned-on faucet from the sky. However, what was to come for my poor pants could only be dictated by the foul weavers of cheap clothing.

While at work wearing said pants, I crouched down to arrange some items. In that process, the seam at the crotch of my pants ripped. Now, mind you, I am still commando. Covering my pants with what I can, I scramble through the office in hopes of finding a safety pin or five. No avail. After scrambling through drawers and shelves I'm left with one choice: electrical tape.

I had to finish the rest of my day wearing light colored pants with a patch of black tape on them right where the cuckoo's nest is. It's as if some pant-peeking force was out to make sure someone or everyone could see my pantless glory.