we goin' down down down
I felt distinctly as if I were about to become the subject of an Art Frahm painting today. Walking down the street after lunching at The Market, my tights slipped completely off of my ass, down my thighs in a beeline toward the ground. The differences between me and his demure pantiless subjects were only that I wasn't carrying celery or a very small dog, and I wasn't actually technically wearing underwear. Had I been, my tights would have probably stayed where they should. To add to the awkward, Arian drove by at that moment and invited me to go to the airport with him. No thanks, mister, I need to make it home before gravity further disrobes me. Maybe next time.