Clean underwear?

If any of you were raised like I was, it was mandatory to wear a clean pair of underwear if you were going somewhere.  As a kid growing up, and a boy kid at that, underwear was optional equipment and clean was foreign.  I mean, if the ass of a pair of underwear wasn't completely blown out, they were good for another few weeks.

My mom used to ask, "Now did you put on a clean pair of underwear?".  I always said "yeah" because I was a busy man.  I had bikes to ride, forts to build and ants to burn with a magnifying glass.  "Clean underwear?''  I thought she was really joking until she gave me a lecture regarding all of the bad things that "could happen".  And in most of those cases, clean underwear wasn't going to remain clean anyhow, because she was scaring the shit out of me!  And when it comes right down to it, let's say one of these scenarios does happen and you consequently do shit your knickers.....  You're going to screw up your britches too!  Who shits their pants in a public setting, ditches their underwear, and puts back on shitty pants expecting to get away with it?  Your damned britches better smell like the Busch Botanical Gardens, otherwise you're a dead ringer for "Mr. Poopy Pants".  Clean underwear just isn't going to hide that.

In regards to this potential dilemma, I did what I could to make momma happy.  My grandfather once told me, "If momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."  I figured he'd been around long enough to test a few theories, so I held that one close to the chest. 

Years later as an adult, I grew into the habit of putting on clean underwear.  I just appreciate them. And its not only clean underwear that I appreciate these days.  Quality underwear is something to truly behold!  Quality underwear can be any brand, but it has to offer a few things.  It's got to be comfortable and it has to offer the right support.  If it's lacking either of those two critical components, you will probably save them anyhow if you're a normal man.  You'll probably wear all of the good underwear before you get around to doing laundry, so you either "go commando" or you wear a pair of drawers that is of lesser quality.

I didn't appreciate the "support" aspect of quality underwear until recently.  As I started to grow older, it became obvious that perhaps my skin didn't have the same elasticity, or just maybe gravity had a better pull than it used too.  Nonetheless it is essential to keep the "team" in the same dugout.  You can't have the bat and balls in different ball parks is all I'm saying.  If you don't, well, you aren't going to be playing ball.

I fully realized this not so long ago.  I had to run some errands, so I hopped in the shower.  After a nice shower, I went to find some quality underwear in my underwear drawer.  (Quality underwear should have a special spot, and it should be nowhere near lesser quality drawers.)  I threw the drawer open and nothing.... No quality underwear, so I went with "option B".  There they were, sitting in the corner like a 3rd grader being punished for smarting off in class.  They've got no pride.  There is no happiness sitting the corner were all of the quality ones can sit and make fun of them.  I figured at this point I had no choice.  I grabbed them and honestly I don't think either of us felt good about the decision, but it had to happen.

Once on, I had to question their ability to keep the "team" together but like I said, it had to be done.  I put on a quality shirt, quality socks, quality jeans, and quality boots and out the door I went.  I make it all the way in to town and put the tough decision behind me.  I was running around town, in and out of the Jeep constantly, taking care of business.  I finished all of my errands and decided to reward myself with a nice hot cup of coffee, so I proceeded into the coffee joint and picked up a cup.  As I headed out to the Jeep, I didn't realize that I somehow let one of the balls outside of the dugout.  As I plopped myself down in the drivers seat, it became abundantly clear to me that I somehow put a guillotine in my front pocket and attempted to cut a guy from the team unannounced.  Bad managerial decision....

I didn't think I was capable of a noise like that.  I also didn't know I could move that quick or experience pain like that without dying, really.  I flopped around for a quick hot second, threw my coffee all over the interior of my Jeep and somehow came to my senses outside, doubled over checking my chances of being able to put the team back together.  I knew I had to talk to that new free agent.

Fortunately, the stray ball didn't leave the field entirely and I would be able to carry on although rather gingerly.  I maneuvered myself back into the drivers seat using extreme caution not wanting a repeat performance.  One of those is good for a life time. 

This was one of those experiences that if you survive intact, you have to tell someone.  For some reason I felt compelled to tell you.  There is a moral to the story.  If you want to keep the bat and balls all together, its worthy to purchase a quality bag.  Buy quality underwear, y'all.  One bad decision can ruin a good team.  Play ball!