Let me tell you a story...
- I'm in love with my jeans. I took them home this weekend and the miracle worker they call my mom patched up the fatal rip up the pant leg putting them back in action for the first time in about a year. Don't get me wrong I have other pairs of jeans I like, but this is a pair I love. The last couple days those other pairs have been taking a bench to my THJ's as I like to call them. There are good times in every stitch and loop in those jeans. Take a little trip with me if you will:
- Summer 2004. I was in a transition period of my life from bad to good. It was a warm Sunday afternoon and as I usually did on Sunday afternoons after a weekly game of pickup football I was perusing the racks at the ARC thrift store looking for loud, cheap, comfortable shirts. The pickings are slim and for whatever reason I decided to see if they had any jeans in my size. It must have been my day because almost all the pairs were in my size but as I shuffled through them my hands brushed against the smoothest most heavenly denim fabric I've ever felt. I whipped them off the rack and tried them on. I've never felt more like a pair of clothes was made for me and at a price of 3 dollars there was no way I was going to let this love at first sight experience pass me by.
- The months and years that followed were some of the best of my life. Those pants worked with me, played with me, explored with me, and grew with me. Over time the fabric began showing a few signs of age which only served to enhance my love for the jeans.
- And then it happened. On my way back to my dorm room late one night Jessica Smith decided it would be a good idea to chase me down the hall, I don't even remember what for; it's too traumatic. I've thoroughly suppressed that memory. But as she was chasing me her foot stepped on a loose piece near the bottom and riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipp. It tore right up the pant leg in a perfectly straight line. She felt bad and I couldn't blame her too much, if it wasn't her it would have been something else. I knew it was an accident, but I was heartbroken. I went to bed that night feeling as if my soul had ripped with my pant leg. The next morning I desperatly tried tape and staples as quick fix but to no avail. Defeated, I went out and bought a new pair the next weekend and they just didn't fill that void my THJ's left.
- About a year and a half passed since then. My bike had recently eaten the pant leg on my current favorite pair and I took them home to see if maybe my mom could fix them. She whipped out the sewing kit and restored them back to how they were before my bike chewed em out and that got me thinking back to whatever happened to my THJ's. Perhaps maybe they could be fixed as well. You know the story from there.
- So if you ever see me in the near future before my THJ's rip again as they are destined to do and I look like a homeless dude in jeans scuffed up covered with holes, just know I'm not one of those tools that buys them like that. Those jeans are my THJ's and I love them. Here's to those stupid little things in life that make us happy, may they last at least a few more months.
- Summer 2004. I was in a transition period of my life from bad to good. It was a warm Sunday afternoon and as I usually did on Sunday afternoons after a weekly game of pickup football I was perusing the racks at the ARC thrift store looking for loud, cheap, comfortable shirts. The pickings are slim and for whatever reason I decided to see if they had any jeans in my size. It must have been my day because almost all the pairs were in my size but as I shuffled through them my hands brushed against the smoothest most heavenly denim fabric I've ever felt. I whipped them off the rack and tried them on. I've never felt more like a pair of clothes was made for me and at a price of 3 dollars there was no way I was going to let this love at first sight experience pass me by.
- The months and years that followed were some of the best of my life. Those pants worked with me, played with me, explored with me, and grew with me. Over time the fabric began showing a few signs of age which only served to enhance my love for the jeans.
- And then it happened. On my way back to my dorm room late one night Jessica Smith decided it would be a good idea to chase me down the hall, I don't even remember what for; it's too traumatic. I've thoroughly suppressed that memory. But as she was chasing me her foot stepped on a loose piece near the bottom and riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipp. It tore right up the pant leg in a perfectly straight line. She felt bad and I couldn't blame her too much, if it wasn't her it would have been something else. I knew it was an accident, but I was heartbroken. I went to bed that night feeling as if my soul had ripped with my pant leg. The next morning I desperatly tried tape and staples as quick fix but to no avail. Defeated, I went out and bought a new pair the next weekend and they just didn't fill that void my THJ's left.
- About a year and a half passed since then. My bike had recently eaten the pant leg on my current favorite pair and I took them home to see if maybe my mom could fix them. She whipped out the sewing kit and restored them back to how they were before my bike chewed em out and that got me thinking back to whatever happened to my THJ's. Perhaps maybe they could be fixed as well. You know the story from there.
- So if you ever see me in the near future before my THJ's rip again as they are destined to do and I look like a homeless dude in jeans scuffed up covered with holes, just know I'm not one of those tools that buys them like that. Those jeans are my THJ's and I love them. Here's to those stupid little things in life that make us happy, may they last at least a few more months.
posted by Jay | 10:54 AM
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