Days of the Week Underwear

I am your Friday underpants. Though sometimes you forget to change and I get carried through to Saturday.

The lapse is rather rare.

Mostly, I only ever get to touch you when c'est vendredi.

Do you have any idea how pissed I am to be a pair of underpants to you? (Pun incidental, but apt.)

I wonder what lucky girl is Thursday? Does she know she lives in your dresser drawer the other six days of the week?

It's funny - I'm still not sure whether you have testicles or ping-pong balls between your legs. You'd think that your boxers would know that kind of thing.

At least pick me up off the bathroom floor when you're done with me. It's frustrating to lay there, crumpled and bruised, all through Sunday. If I weren't just stitches and cotton, I'd call it abuse. Keep it up, and you'll be out one less pair. Actually, that's the case anyways - I am not your Friday underwear!