I woke up late this morning, and in my rush to get to work on time, I broke the button on my slacks :smack: No problem, I’m wearing a belt, so nobody will know the difference. After work, I went to school, then came back home later in the morning after class. I went to go to the bathroom, and suddenly I realize that my fly is WIDE open, and my tucked-in shirt is poking out from my fly :eek:
This was mortifying; how long was my fly down? did it happen in the car on the drive home? (god I hope so! ) or was it like that while I was having a conversation with several people in class today, while standing up? And if so, WHY DIDNT ANYBODY TELL ME MY FLY WAS DOWN?! :eek: :mad:
A few years ago, my friend had gone to class in really ripped jeans. She took a theatre history class, and that day they had actually gone into the theatre and had bee sitting around on the risers of the stage, cross-legged.
She went home, undressed, took a nap in the buff, then got up again a few hours later. She just pulled her jeans over her naked butt, threw on a t-shirt on and sleepily wandered into the kitchen.
“Geez, it’s pretty breezy in the nether-regions…” Then she yawned, sleepily and thought, “Oh, yeah, these old jeans have no crotch…”
…
:eek:
For a few moments of absolutely, mortified horror, she thought of her earlier class and “Omigod! Did I expose myself to the entire class???” Now fully awake, she was about to throw a panic fit of unbridled embarassment – but then realized that, since it was winter and cold out, she had in fact been wearing both panties and long underwear when she had gone to class. She’d only changed out of them prior to her nap.
Still, for a few moments she nearly had a heart attack right there in her kitchen.
Many years ago I was visiting a friend, along with another one of his friends. The friend, who I’ll call Billy Bob, was not in the habit of wearing underwear. He went to the toilet and then went to the store, leaving me and the other friend at his home watching TV. The news was on. About 45 minutes later Billy Bob came back rather upset. He had been buying things at the store and had been cheerfully saying “Hi” to the people he met but noticed that all the people who approached him suddenly looked down, as if they were depressed.
Mystified by this sudden epidemic of depression, Billy Bob finally looked down too. Realizing that he’d basically been walking around the store with the barn door open and the horsie out, he zipped up, then came home to scold me and the other person for not informing him of his condition before he went to the store. Our excuse was that the Germans were tearing down the Berlin Wall and the status of the wall and the Germans were somewhat more important than the status of his fly.
The cucumber has left the salad.
You have a security breach at Los Pantalones.
Quasimodo needs to get back in the tower and tend to his bells.
Someone tore down the wall, and Pink Floyd is hanging out.
While not nearly as amusing as umop ap!sdn’s suggestions, I generally find a quick, “You’re umm…” accompanied by and eyebrow scratch, is all that’s needed before guys jump and spin. It’s strange how they know what I was going to say.
And then change the subject, quickly and completely.
I mean, wouldn’t **you **want to know?
(Yes, I also tell women when their skirts are stuck in their pantyhose and children when they have boogers hanging from their nose.)
I had to tell a coworker this very thing yesterday. We walked out of the kitchen, and I just happened to notice his zipper was down, so before we got very far down the hall, I leaned in a bit and whispered, “hey, you’re flying low.” I kept going, and didn’t stop to check whether he fixed it, but I will have to assume that because there was a slight delay in how long it took him to catch up, that he did.
) or was it like that while I was having a conversation with several people in class today, while standing up? And if so, WHY DIDNT ANYBODY TELL ME MY FLY WAS DOWN?! :eek: :mad:
