bigirishhead

So this woman walks into my dining room, holding a pair of my underpants. They're souvenir boxers from a Las Vegas hotel/casino. The underwear have a pattern of alternating white jolly rogers and pirates printed on black cotton. Essentially "period underwear" for men, third-string boxers inappropriate for impressing women. "Only to be worn within a commited relationship."

I'm standing with my roommate, Brian, talking next to the refrigerator. The woman offers Brian a buck fifty for the underpants. I look at Brian and raise my eyebrows. I wonder why she's negotiating the purchase of MY underwear with my roommate; not me.

"What the fuck is she doing holding my underwear? They're not even for sale. Who let her in the house, anyway? This whole scenario smells funny."

Then, Brian buckles and takes the lady's dollar fifty. I stare down the woman as she carries my pirate boxers out of the house.

"This is weak. I don't even have a say in the exchange of my own "bottoms? I'm completely excluded here. Where did she come from?"

...Of course.

..I woke up at this point.