Dear Scott, Your Jeans Are Too Short

I'm sorry to say it, but every winter, the too-short-jeans epidemic hits UNCG.
I've had several classes with a guy named Scott. Scott is brilliant and was tutoring Philosophy his first semester Freshman year. He's one of those people that makes you skittish to speak up in class because anything you say will sound like a Sesame Street conversation compared to his eloquent dissertations. 

Scott's usual attire consists of Chuck Taylor's, jeans, and some sort of plaid flannel shirt.This semester, he began dating a nice girl named Emily, and they sit in front of me in our ENG 352: The 20th-Century American Novel class. I wouldn't have taken so much note of Scott and Emily, if it wasn't for their inappropriate displays of public affection. They sit in the center of the front row, and they may as well occupy only one seat instead of two. They're always whispering to each other, playing footsy, and generally making me feel nauseous. Don't get me wrong, it's great that they have such a. . . close. . .relationship. I'd just rather that they practiced their "closeness" somewhere I did not have to watch it.

Because the three of us (Scott, Emily, and I) have been spending so much quality time sitting in class together recently, I've begun to notice something amiss about Scott's choice of wardrobe--his jeans are far too short. Maybe he likes the ventilation? Perhaps he's very proud of his shoes, and wants everyone to take special note of them? Or, my least favorite supposition, he just hasn't noticed? Who knows. Whatever the reason may be, not only do I have to watch Scott and Emily exchange dreamy looks and talk with their lips smushed together, but now I have to sit in class knowing that when Scott stands up, his pants will be an inch above the tops of his Chuck Taylor's. 

Sometimes I wish the Fashion Police really existed.