Pull Up Your Pants

I mean it. You've had your fad, you've shown the world you're big, you're bad, you're belt-challenged. You've also shown the world your butt--and if I may speak for the world for just one minute: we never wanted to see it!

So
Pull
Up
Your
Pants

One day I was driving through Greenwood (Indiana), and I just couldn't help myself. I rolled down my window and exercised my spriritual gift (exhortation) on a young man walking knee-jutted (the necessary posture for one trying to keep one's britches from dropping to their ankles). I yelled, as any good mother would, "Pull up your pants!"

It felt great!

He didn't acknowledge me (which is probably why I'm still alive), but I felt better.

Until yesterday. Walking through Target was the worst offender of all. A nice looking kid who just needs to be told: THE FAD IS OVER. And your entire gluteous maximus is showing. He was wearing a belt, and it was riding completely under his seat cushions. Not riding low, not part way down, no. Completely under.

The exertion it took to hold myself in check actually resulted in me sloshing my iced white mocha onto my flip flop (yes, I was Christmas shopping in 82 degrees), and I spent the rest of my shopping trip with a sticky foot.

Because that kid needed to

Pull
Up
His
Pants

I think I'm going to put that on a t-shirt.

Front: Pull Up Your Pants.
Back: Yes, you.

Either that or I'm going to give them a shot of their own fashion (non)sense and join 'em. I'll wear a different t-shirt that day.

Front: I'm Hip, I'm Happenin', I'm NOW
Back: Hey, you started it!

THAT will have them running home to Momma.

My friend just sent me this link of BigSix8. Awesome!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Co-sJT1GQY