Yesterday, while at work, I took a walk down memory lane. There was a teenage girl who came in with doodles on her jeans. I couldn't help but laugh when I realized that I used to be that girl. I can remember this one pair of jean, whenever I wore them I carried a Sharpie marker. It started with me being bored and doodling on them in class one day with my ink pen, and then two of the guys I was friends with decided to join in too. Well, the ink washed out, so I got the Sharpie and it became the thing to do. Everyone I knew and hung out with had to draw on and sign my jeans. "Oh, no blank spaces? I'll bend over and you can sign my butt." Seriously, I had no boundaries. I wore these jeans everywhere, I was proud of them.
The next year, I let them do it with a t-shirt.
I wonder if my mom threw them out when I got married. I imagine so, I mean seriously, would she really want her daughter to have a pair of jeans signed "Jake wuz here" with an arrow pointing to the crotch? Granted, writing that was the closest that he ever got, but that's not the point.
Well, I better get off here. Both kids, as well as myself, are sick, although neither of them seem to feel very bad... They're running around driving me nuts.
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