My blue jeans are dead. They are walking dead. The pockets have holes big enough to drop all my change, the seams are ripping, and all the patches I have very carefully placed are ripping out. There are holes in the butt, in the crotch, and in the knees. And the patches to hold down the patches? Those are coming out too.

Oh sad, sad day. My poor jeans. My dumpy, slumpy, holey, raggedy jeans.

And we don't have the extra cash right now to replace them.

Please don't think I'm obscene when you see me walking down the street. Please don't think I'm trying to flash you when I sit down in a chair. Don't take offense at my built-in air conditioning... I have one other pair. They just get dirty sometimes and are the wrong color. I choose to wash them and wear my comfy falling apart blue jeans.