Oh look, there's the pair of shorts my mom bought me a few years ago. Ah yes, a lovely forest green that could possible pass as Daisy Dukes and oh what's this, when the manufacturer sewed them together one of the seams made a large round circle, kinda like a target only it's on my backside.
There's the brown sweater with an unusual off-yellow zig-zag line right across the middle. When I wore that to work I looked like the negative of Charlie Brown. Maybe that was when Heidi was worried I was going bald.
6 pairs of pants (blue jeans, khakis, strange mistakes with drawstrings) with various holes and rips throughout the fabric, mostly in the most inconvenient locations. And, by the way, mostly worn for the entire day without any knowledge of said rips.
There's my favorite Lynard Skynard T-shirt that I took a huge chunk out of, about three hours after purchasing it. I was on the swing sets at a park and was trying to show my dad how high I could leap from the swing when my shirt got caught in the chain and nearly ripped off my body completely. I was 29 years old. No joke.
There's my graduation robes that Gavin pooed all over right before pictures.
There are all the waffle shirts that Heidi despises.
Some strange pair of goulashes.
There are the belts that I literally have to suck in my gut, secure the latch in the hole and pray that I don't bust out of it like the Hulk.
Yeah, maybe one day when I sell millions of books, I'll go to Target and clean house!