The awful taste of a polyester blend and your poor gag reflexes combining for another night distantly "cuddling" at Judy's place.
Your firm belief that anthropomorphic fruit should only be used to sell fruit and fruit-related products.
That one time you were at Burger King with your friends, and they thought it would be a good idea to pants you at the counter, and then proceeded to ask you if you "wanted to supersize that" for the next six months.
That shaming look of disapproval on your mother's face as she idly brought up "that old tape of Miami Vice episodes" at dinner, instantly revealing her knowledge of your softcore video collection, once safely hidden amidst your Aquaman briefs.
"I bet Jesus would wear some itchy stuff like the Mormons do." God, Darren, you can be so dumb.
The grip of the high waistband as a metaphor for slavery.
Crotchless is so 2004.
Brown underwear is not a realistic option, despite your recent vindication from the patent office.
What do they call it again? Commando? Was it Shannon Doherty in Commando? No, no, it was Alyssa Milano. That's right, cause Brian kept saying "Who's the Boss? I'm the boss" in that lame Schwarzenegger impression. Well, okay, the impression is pretty good, but the joke was lame.
Your uncle telling your father at Thanksgiving that he was going to start selling used underwear as dog sweaters, and your subsequent bragging to the whole 3rd grade class, and the note home, and the lousy Christmas, and your general mistrust of adults thereafter.
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