Never...

...go out to the queer bars in cut off sweat pants.

Even if you have been reduced to these vestments by virtue of being DRENCHED trying to raise the top of your car well into the thunder shower you didn't notice brewing because you had Bloc Party and the industrial strength A.C. cranked so high and loud you missed the first throaty growls of thunder and the start of the deluge which followed - and this is in fact ALL you have dry on hand.

Because men will assume you are a tramp - what with being nearly exposed in fabric hardly more substantial than flimsy drawers - and really, once the menzes have invested themselves so heavily in such a conclusion, how can you disappoint them?


Oh.
God.