: a lesson I learned from my socks :

 I’ve never claimed to be the smartest, shrewdest person on earth, but I’m not a doorknob, either. I can think. I can understand. I’m equipped with cognitive function. So I know when I’m being insulted and I was insulted by my socks.

The sock manufacturer, anyway. Socks can’t talk — unless you put them on your hands and turn them into sock puppets, then yackety-yackety-yak. They don’t shut up, but they’re usually affable and good-natured. I can’t say the same for Fruit of the Loom, though. They took a cheap shot at every single sock buyer in the world with their care instructions: Do not iron.  Really?



Do they really think customers are so flipping stoopid they must be warned not to iron socks?

Well, they’re right. We’re stoopid … for buying their crummy merchandise. Against my better judgment I went ahead and bought a three-pack of white crew socks for $6, brought them home, laundered them according to the sharply worded instructions, and what happened? They strangled my legs. I mean it, the socks were so damn tight I got muffin tops wearing them. Right there on my bony shins, actual muffin tops.

Caveat emptor, indeed. Be a wise emptor and caveat those dudes at Fruit of the Loom. They’ll throttle your ankles.

copyright © 2017 the whirly girl

16 responses to “: a lesson I learned from my socks :”

  1. Is this new plan for socks to slowly take over the world by strangling feet? We must be told!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Socks are always looking for a way out, planning dryer escapes and all, so you just might have something there. Socks hate their jobs.

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      1. I suppose it’s comes with being stepped on all day!

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        1. Hahaha, probably so!

          >

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  2. very humorous article, I’ve also had socks that give me leg muffin top, it’s definitely not fun, thanks for the laughs!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Why, thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m still waiting for the marks left by the ribbing to disappear. It could be awhile …

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  3. So … did you ever figure out what happens when socks are ironed? Do they mutate into frizzy sock-monsters? Does the iron trigger a thermo-nuclear reaction that will wipe out your building and the two or three adjacent ones?

    Please let me know if you found out – I’m dying of suspense over here.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Okay, I did some investigating on my own, so this might fall in the fake news category, but it’s all I have.

      The package says the socks are 100% polyester — ew — so my guess is, they’d melt if they were ironed. Or burst into flame? Something flammable, anyway. Or, no, release toxins into the air. Do any of those seem reasonable?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Bursting into flame would be the most entertaining option. I think. Maybe you could iron the socks and turn them into fire kindling?

        Liked by 1 person

        1. You’re a genius! One five alarm conflagration coming right up.

          Liked by 1 person

  4. Puppet socks can’t hold a candle to puppets made out of airline barf bags…
    Saw a production of MacBeth with those critters…
    Performed by a senior flight attendant…

    Highly hi-larious…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Macbeth from a flight attendant? Were you on a trip to Hell?

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      1. No…
        She’s a very funny woman…
        It was a one-woman show, from a very talented, frustrated actress turned flight attendant…

        Still…

        Barf bag puppets…?

        Brilliant!

        Liked by 1 person

  5. It’s only a matter of time before muffin tops on the shins becomes an Instagram hashtag, used to shame people with body fat greater than 3%.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 3%? Those socks would be snug on a straw. Fortunately, circulation did return and my feet are fine.

      Liked by 1 person

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