I shouldn’t have shared that Brett Favre Wrangler Jeans commercial on Facebook… I’m so stupid!
Oh, hey. There you are. Yeah, this post is just about Wrangler jeans, pretty much.
It all started when I scored these early ’90s black jeans at Goodwill. Pretty stupid. ‘Bout three bucks. I call ’em my Lenny Kravitz jeans. Actually the fly automatically scrolls down while I’m gettin’ squared away in ’em at work, which is appropriate, given how much of a dirty whore his daughter is.
Well, it ain’t over ’til it’s over, and sugar, it’s over, for these early ’90s black jeans (which had the brand “Bull Head,” making it that much more heartbreaking to relegate them to my lower closet of “yardwork clothes”), with a phat hole on the crotch, again appropriate, again with the fly down, just not for work.
So sh**. What the he** do I do. I can’t go to Meijer and buy two pairs of Wranglers (although a Blackhawks hat and an $8.99 bottle of Seagram’s gin purchased from the same store would really hit the spot) or the ghosts of two high schoolers past will drive down, all the way from South Bend, to this even sh**tier town where I live now Terre Haute and make fun of me. And then I’ll have to act like I care, or they’ll hatchet me to death. And that would get blood all over the walls, which would be hard to clean up, or so I assume.
Part of me even wanted us to hire a real country a** at work. Certain pride in that, dog gone it. Hey, Hank. Yeah. What’s up there, Pal. Same shit. Earnin’ an honest buck. Always wanted to get ahead in this world. But when I look up at the stars, I know I’m in my place. I accept my slot in life with open arms, keep listening to the great Kenny Chesney and being friendly to everybody, and I know I’m serving my duty. Oh yeah, and 272 tins of Mint Grizzly don’t hurt, either.
I get so sick of metal that I think I’m more sick of it than country… which is saying something… and I literally work with these people who hate Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones and the Beatles, whereas the Beatles have had three songs become TV sitcom theme songs, The Stones have “Honky Tonk Women” (which is written by an ugly person about the subject about how many chicks he gets and is still a good song wrap your sleaze bag mind around that you sack of maggot sh**) and “Shattered” under their belts… Zeppelin… “That’s the Way”… “The Rain Song”… Dirty Harry… have you seen your mother baby… ’cause sugar he has…