Dysfunctional Jeans

Some things defy explanation. 

This is an actual pair of jeans my daughters received as gifts for Christmas.  Yes, I was lucky to get two pairs of these.  You may be thinking "Geez, Rys!  KWITCHERBITCHIN!"

What's that?  Let's see what that little tag says:

In case you couldn't read it, it says "THE DYES IN THIS GARMENT COULD RUB OFF ESPECIALLY WHEN WET.  CARE SHOULD BE TAKEN TO PREVENT THIS GARMENT FROM COMING INTO CONTACT WITH LIGHT FABRICS OR UPHOLSTERY"

You know, shirts, chairs, couches, car seats?

They came with a disclaimer.

This has got to be the most rediculous thing I've seen in a very long time.

The beauty of jeans is that everything matches with it.  They've effectively eliminated whites, yellows, and about half the color wheel.  It's guaranteed disaster.  Because little girls don't think of this stuff when they're yanking clothes out of their dressers.  Nope, I'm lucky if they match.  Am I really supposed to tell them "No honey, you can't sit on that tan couch"?  By the time the words came out of my mouth they would have plopped their ass on it, probably leaving an indelible blue butt print.  And you know it would have been, say, GRANDMA'S couch.  It wouldn't be mine, because it's you-can't-stain-me-dark-brown, to go along with my marbly-brown-carpet-that-hides-everything-but-lime-green-play-doh.  And yes, that's been proven. It's the kind of rug I could lose my cat in:

See?  If it wasn't for that neon toy, Betty might be a pancake.  But with kids, they'd never ever spill a drink on that rug.  Oh no.  It would be a big ol' glass on Mrs. Smith's sterile white rug, as the dye from the jeans left droplets of blue everywhere that make Stainmaster sorry they ever had guarantees. 

Because that is reality. Which is why I returned them.  With the tag prominently displayed.