Mini Super Colliders and My Laundry

When something occurs once you can call it an isolated incident and shake it off like water on dog fur. But when something occurs over and over and over you call it a shakedown. A chronic epidemic. Male pattern baldness, if you will.

I was in my Quantitative Reasoning class today when I happened to look down at my shirt, and right there near the bottom was a little hole about the size of a small pencil eraser. No! I thought. How can this be?? It's a beautiful orange cotton shirt with long sleeves and a hoodie. Two months old. You hear that, Mr. Snuggle? Nearly brand new and already looking like I got into a fight with a gang of disgruntled chickens. And I don't even like eggs for breakfast. I'm allergic. Isn't that ironic?

The hole in my orange shirt wouldn't be so special if it were, as I said, an isolated incident. But lately I've been finding these curious little holes in all of my favorite shirts. They appear quite suddenly, covert and stealth-like. Little round conundrums. To show you that my time in class was well spent, I have come up with three possible explanations to this snarky wardrobe malfunction.

Explanation #1: The mini super colliders in Switzerland are working after all. All those black holes the Swiss scientists promised us have shown up alright. On my shirts.

Explanation #2: Evil mice are running a gambling ring in my laundry basket.

Explanation #3: George Norry is right. Extra terrestrial beings are floating around in invisible spacecrafts and collecting tiny pieces of cheap fabric to take back to their home planet for further observation. When they finally take over earth they'll make us all work in giant sweatshops, probably making orange shirts with long sleeves and hoodies.

At this rate I may not have much left of my shirts to wear in the next few months. I'll look down one day and realize that the emperor and I have a lot in common. I'll be jailed for indecent exposure and will then have to write these special blogs from a 9x13 prison cell.

Hey, here's an idea. Somebody call Obama. Ask him if there's any kind of mini super collider holy shirt bailout for people like me. If there's not there should be. I'm a victim here! Aliens. Evil mice. I have a constitutional right to decent clothing. That's all for today. Now go find me a tailor before this shirt falls off.