Soren Bowie: Your Eighth Grade Boyfriend

Two things you should know about me:

1) I write myself short-hand messages constantly about ideas for sketches, columns, things I like. Then I stuff those sticky notes, napkins, receipts in my pants pockets and immediately forget them because now they’re written down. In that respect, my pockets are like auxiliary storage for my brain.

2) I never wash my pants.

As a result, I will find cryptic notes in my pockets constantly and have no idea what any of them mean. See, I don’t actually know how to write short hand so I really just end up with confusing sentence fragments that look less like messages meant to remind myself of anything and more like clumsy notes my pants have written me. Here are some of my favorite letters I’ve ever gotten from my unwashed pants:

“Start with the teeth, they’re the weakest.”

“Convince retailers of pregnancy, w/o a whisper.”

“Bad veins among savages.”

“Pictures of things I’m not talking about.”

“You start your own bank.”

“Space Cancer - disease or adventure?”

Thanks pants, you’re absolutely right.