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.