I took an expedition to the North Hills yesterday to buy some pants. It was a truly horrific experience, but on a brighter note, it gave me enough material for my blog to last me several weeks.
First of all, I have to admit that pants shopping has always been a traumatic journey for me. I think it goes back to my childhood, when my Mom would drag me to the department store before school started and we would have to shop in the "Husky" section. I don't think they have a Husky section anymore, so for those of you who are not familiar with the term, it basically means big-assed pants.
Anyway, after I got home with my pants, I had to start the laborious chore of cutting off all of the little plastic thingies that hold the labels on. Whomever invented those things should be waterboarded by W and Dick Cheney. First of all, you can never find the remnants of the plastic thingies when you cut them in half. Some of them fall on the floor, never to be found again until your cat decides to eat them, possibly precipitating a massive digestive upheaval. But the thingies that really bother me are the ones that stay in your pants. I am constantly fearful that they will someday work themselves out of the pants material and insert themselves into some delicate part of my body and cause irreparable harm. It's my own personal pants nightmare.
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1 comment:
your first mistake was getting onto mcknight rd.
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