Day 1: Nothing unusual. Just underpants.
Day 2: Turned ’em inside-out; good to go.
Day 3: I’m just gonna roll with it.
Day 4: I think I can smell my own balls.
Day 5: I can smell my own balls.
Day 6: The world can smell my balls.
Day 7: This is my fault. I knew I had 23 days to go with this pair of underpants, and yet I ate at Taco Bell Again: this is my fault.
Day 8: Why did I want to be a writer? Maybe I should take the LSAT’s.
Day 9: Everything is now balls and doody.
Dy 10: I have hanged myself with my pair of MeUndies. Sorry, mom.