Earlier this week I decided to wear my favourite pair of jeans to work. Little did I know how much grief I’d go through that day.
So here I am working in my favourite blue jeans with a black open neck sweater (it has a zipper) with a green shirt underneath and every so often I would feel a slight draft. Now I don’t normally feel cold in the office, the women I work with ALWAYS complain about being cold, but not me. So anyway, I get to my desk and I feel a chill forming down below my waistline.
I look downwards, pull my sweater up just a tad and see that my fly is as open as Russell Brand’s next Booky Wooky.
Still standing, I quickly reach down for my zipper, and I don’t feel a thing. Its like a moment out of a cartoon, I see an outline of where the zipper should be, but its not there. I feel around for it and then I pause realizing that what I’m doing could look oh so very WRONG.
So I let the bottom of my sweater fall back down over my zipper & I make my way to the Men’s washroom which stank of Vinegar (cleaners must of ran out of Mr. Clean). I got into a stall, shut the door behind, took off my shoes, dropped my pants (sorry ladies there was nothing sexy about this moment, unless you want to imagine me doing this slowly).
I stand holding my jeans in front of me, resting against the wall as I stare blankly at it. I had an urge to say “this is not my jeans,” as if I were Goldilocks looking for the right one. I knew these were my jeans, but this had never happened before with these jeans, so I was disappointed & irritated as I scanned up & down. And there I saw the zipper hanging on for dear life at the top of my fly. I fumbled around & fought to get it back onto the tracks. Then I got dressed and went back to work. After my lunch break with Ella Waffles & Frenchy, I felt this familiar feel creeping up on me (no it wasn’t love, it was air and lots of it). I ran to the Men’s washroom as if a bomb needed to be defused and I was the only man who could do it.
So you can just wash, rinse & repeat my whole de-pantsing ritual. And here I am face to face (er… Crotch I guess if you want to be exact) with my nemesis, my jeans. And there’s my zipper hanging off to the left for dear life as if it were John McClane from Die Hard. In my head I’m pretty sure I heard an announcer say “Round 2! Fight!” As I got my fly back on track.
Yes, this is the story of “How Quammie Got His Fly Back” and I’m Taye Diggs… And Stella.
After that bout, I was left feeling quite vulnerable & I had a meeting to attend shortly. The last thing I wanted was for a Janet Jackson Superbowl incident to happen during this meeting. So I went to Frenchy & Ella Waffles and asked for a safety pin. I had my meeting and during that meeting I spent half the time thinking about zipper jokes & excuses.
The safety pins that I had were kind of small & thin, so I didn’t trust them.
So I went to the one person in the office that I knew would get a kick out of this whole scenario. I went to my “Work Mom”. I asked her for a safety pin & she basically asked me if I had a license to carry around a potentially sharp object. I explained the zipper malfunction & made the Janet Jackson reference which got a good laugh out of her. Mama came through for me like she always does. But little did I know that she would turn on me.
At some point later in the day I was at my computer focused on my work when I hear “Work Mom” call my name. I turn to her and she says,
“Do you still feel Super Fly?” With a big grin on her face.
I ask her to repeat herself since I thought I heard her wrong and then something in my head just clicked.
Super (emphasis on the last word) FLY.
Without even saying a word to her, I looked at my desk, picked up a gold safety pin and whipped it at her.
She burst out laughing till she was almost in tears.
I said, “Oh! You got jokes now. You think you’re funny!?”
She held her stomach & laughed.
I grabbed another safety pin and threw it at her while uttering, “Here’s a pin-arang from my utility belt cus I’m Super Fly!”
She laughed uncontrollably. Upon finally catching her breath, she gave me back the pins and said straight-faced, “You shouldn’t be throwing those around, you might need them.”
Throughout the day we made horrendous zipper jokes and I convinced her to buy me a C-Plus pop for all of the emotional damage she put me through. While she went to get me a drink, I opened up the C-Plus that she had on her desk and when she came back I picked it up, put it to my mouth with a shit-eating grin & drank.
I love you “Work Mom”!
I hate you Pants!
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