That awkward moment — when folding your laundry at the laundromat — you discover that one of your shirts (that you happen to be particularly fond of) has inexplicably suffered what appear to be multiple gunshot wounds at some point in the wash & dry process.
And you now wonder if wearing the shirt — which is, in otherwise perfect condition — will increase the likelihood that others perceive you to be an adventurous badass…
or simply a homeless guy with good taste in shirts.
I suppose I could be both. O_o