Terrible Analogies

The good folks at Lifehacker posted this tip recently:

Soak the garment in hot water and hair conditioner for 5 minutes and then stretch it back to size.

I always find it strange that my pre-shrunk t-shirts have a tendency to shrink, even when I’m careful and wash them in cold water and dry on low heat.  But after reading this simple tip I’m going to have to give this a shot.  Who knows?  Perhaps I’ll be able to rescue a cool nerd shirt of mine that shrunk to doll size after one wash.  That was a perfectly good waste of $20…

I remember the first time I saw you. It was at that Bauhaus concert in ’98. I fell in love with you at first glance, and I had a feeling that you felt the same about me. That night I held you for the first time, drove you home, and saw you again the very next day. Remember?

We were soon inseparable. Wherever I went you tagged along. And through the years we shared some amazing experiences.

Together we moved out from that small apartment and into a large home. You were with me when I adopted Nemesis from the pound. And it wasn’t soon after that she cuddled up next to us every night as we curled up on the couch.

We went to more than our fair share of concerts, movies, and sporting events. Remember the time when Trent Reznor threw a keyboard key at us? Call me jealous, but I think he was glancing at you throughout the show.

We soon moved again, this time into another home closer to where I worked. It was around that time that you disappeared for a several days.  I had no idea where you had gone. I thought I’d lost you, but one day you magically appeared in my living room. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see you again!

But as the years went by we both started showing our age. We settled down into the habit of laughing at late night talk show hosts together, then sneaking off to bed where you kept me warm on dark, cold nights. Time continued to march on, and it became evident that you were feeling a bit worn out. Threadbare.

I couldn’t help but notice holes in your once flawless veneer.

I find this tough to say, but I fear our relationship has come end. I can no longer stand by and watch you slowly fall apart on me.  It hurts me to see you like this.

I’ll always love you. You know that.  I’d like to tell you that we can still be friends, but you and I know that that would be a lie.

I miss you already.

You were my most favorite t-shirt…ever!

It’s a sad day for me whenever I have to retire a concert tour t-shirt.  I grew up listening to Bauhaus, but they broke up before I started attending concerts.  I thought that I’d never get to see one of my favorite bands of all time play live.  Lucky for me they reunited for their Gotham and Resurrection tours.  In 1998 I saw Bauhaus play live for the first time.

With much regret, my Bauhaus shirt was officially thrown away yesterday evening.

I’m still in mourning…

Things I’ve lost: Car keys, wallet, movie tickets, flip flops, towels, pens, homework, phone numbers, addresses, DVDs, CDs, casette tapes, money, time, jobs, parking spaces, friends, books, rides, bets, socks, nail clippers, my lunch, train of thought, place in line, a pet bird, surf board, my car’s spare tire, passwords, utility bills, hopes and dreams.

One thing I’ve never lost was my pants…until now.

It’s the strangest thing. I ironed my pants one night, woke up the next morning and my pants were gone. Poof. MIA. AWOL. Vamoosed. Auf Wiedersehen. Gone.

I searched all over. My thought was that perhaps they fell off the hanger, were thrown into the hamper, or had somehow found their way back into the washing machine, but no such luck. Neither did the cat purloin my pleated slacks for use as bedding, nor did the wife appropriate them to hem the waist or polish our vast collection of priceless fine dining ware. It’s as if some ancient malicious shadow crept in through the transom late one night, slithered its way up the stairs and through the narrow gap under the closet door, and with a sallow silence that only an ethereal death can provide sequestered my freshly-ironed attire then eeriely, and with a well-practiced flourish, held them close to its inky chest and spirited itself away into that dark Plutonian night.

Socks I can understand losing, but pants? How does one go about losing a pair a of pants?