I’ve got so many athletic commitments—such as clubbing and jumbo slice—that I’ve accumulated numerous pieces of athletic underwear to the tune of closet-busting. You might imagine boxer-jocks dangling importantly from marquee hangers amid my notable suite of salmon-tint Casual Day home kits. So I upped the antechamber. For all my Under Armour, I bought an Under Armoire. Do you know about this? It has room for sporty sock, sporty pant, sporty tote, sporty sideways cap. (I store my sporty cap sideways, in any event, to get it broken in-for athletic commitments such as clubbing and jumbo slice.) I thought it would end there, and by “it” I mean the accumulation of athletic underwear, and by “there”, I mean my Under Armoire, but Nö, I begin to desire greater domination, the way Under Armour conquered the body, one garment at a time. I would like to own an Under Armoured Car and travel the Land Down Under Armour, not to mention purchase shares in the corporate merger that will certainly produce Under Armour & Hammer. I could see this getting way outta hand. If I max my credit cards, what then? Must I appear in Debtors Court? Will my wages get garnished? Will they hand me my money with a sprig of parsley? All because of my insatiable requirement to fill my drawers—with drawers!
