Why can't we have nice things?

So, I get home from work today and start making dinner. I go to open the trash bin and inside I see this:



Husband is standing near me and I just give him "a look." I am pretty sure that this is probably what he had on today, and the look I gave him thoroughly expressed my "What the F@*% did you do to your shirt?" question. I liked that shirt. What the hell?

So, he pulls the shirt out and begins to tell the story. We'll he went in the bathroom and realized there was a hole in the elbow.



and so he hulked out and tore it some more.



and that wasn't good enough so he tore it here



and there



and generally just made total destruction



Because that's what he does. So, I laughed my ass off, took pictures, shrugged and went on making dinner.
Poor sad little shirt.