It was bound to happen. Eat your heart out Joey. You and your little girly Joey Jeans. This blog is dedicated to all those punks on my 7th grade football team that gave me wedgies because my mom had magic-markered my name on my underwear (bigger than life) to distinguish mine from my dad's. Yeah, who's laughing now? HAHAHAHHAHAHA!
(Thanks to the Hammering Hebrew and Super Churchlady for sending this picture along to me and finally bringing closure to a painful chapter of my youth.)